Second Chances
by evitamockingbird
Summary: In 4x2, Mr. Grigg asks Mr. Carson "why did you never ask about Alice when we last met, before the War?" What might have happened if Mr. Carson HAD asked Charles Grigg about Alice the first time Grigg came to Downton? This story answers that question. AU Chelsie.
1. Don't Call Me Charlie

**Greetings! This is a period AU story that I hope you will enjoy. I'll be experimenting with writing a few anti-headcanon items of mine, so we'll see how it goes.**

Charles Carson hurried into Downton village, several emotions competing for dominance in his perturbed heart - anger, shame, and fear. Memories of his former life always triggered shame in him, and where Charles Grigg was concerned, he was still very angry, even after all of these years. The fear he felt was directly connected with Grigg's apparent presence in the village. Mr. Carson had hoped that his past life would never intersect with the respectable life he had labored hard to make for himself over the last several decades, but the man waiting for him at the Dog and Duck had the power to dash that hope and destroy that life. Mr. Carson knew his only chance for prevailing against Mr. Grigg required that he keep his fear hidden.

The pub was neither deserted nor crowded, it being the middle of the day. Mr. Carson found his former friend fairly easily. Time had not been particularly cruel or kind to the man; he looked much as Mr. Carson expected - an older version of the man he had known. He made his way across the room and sat down at Grigg's table without speaking to him.

"Hello, Charlie," Mr. Grigg greeted him.

"Don't call me that," Mr. Carson said curtly. "It's Charles or Carson."

"Yes, that's right. Carson, the high and mighty butler now, I hear," Mr. Grigg taunted.

Mr. Carson's eyebrows drew together, but he resisted the urge to engage with the man. It would do no good. "What do you want?" he demanded quietly.

"Getting right to the point, I see. You weren't always so unfriendly, Charlie."

"I don't have time for this. Tell me why you're here or I'll take my leave."

"I've been asking after you in the village, Charlie. Folk think well of you here. I knew you'd gone respectable, but I didn't expect to find you butler to the local lord. Up at 'the big house,' they tell me."

"And?" Mr. Carson could barely keep his temper.

"And it would be a shame if the good people of this village, not to mention everyone up at Downton Abbey, heard what I could tell them about you."

"Are you trying to blackmail me?"

"Call it what you like, Charlie, but you'll give me what I want or I'll tell them what you really are."

Mr. Carson stared hard into his adversary's face. This was just what he had feared. He was going to have to find a way to give Mr. Grigg what he wanted and then get him out of Downton for good. "Tell me what you're after, Grigg," Mr. Carson said grimly. "And make it fast. I haven't got all day."

#####

Elsie Hughes did not have any time for nonsense. The house was in an uproar over the arrival of what Mr. Carson called "the new family," and she had too many things to do and too many fires to put out to deal with anything else. However, it seemed that just as she handled one problem, another appeared to take its place. Sitting at her desk, she could hear conversation in the servants' hall, but her ears caught the click of shoes on the stairs and she stopped what she was doing to listen for some indication of the identity of whomever had just descended, staff or family. As soon as she heard the countess's voice, she was on her feet and making her way quickly down the corridor.

"Can I help your ladyship?" Mrs. Hughes asked, joining Lady Grantham in the doorway of the servants' hall.

"This is the button we're missing from my new evening coat. I found it lying on the gravel," she answered, dropping the button into Mrs. Hughes's open palm. "But I was shocked at the talk I heard as I came in. Mr. Crawley is his lordship's cousin and heir. You will therefore please accord him the respect he's entitled to."

Mrs. Hughes didn't have any difficulty figuring out whose talk might have shocked the countess, but she was still surprised when Miss O'Brien faced her mistress and argued back. "But you don't like him yourself, milady. You never wanted him to come here. I remember distinctly-"

"You are sailing perilously close to the wind, O'Brien," Lady Grantham interrupted, in a voice like steel wrapped in silk. "If we're to be friends, you will not speak in that way again about the Crawleys or any member of Lord Grantham's family. Now I'm going up to rest. Wake me at the dressing gong."

After Lady Grantham swept quietly up the stairs, Mrs. Hughes thought she might be left in peace, but it was not to be. Miss O'Brien and Thomas took up the subject of the former's freedom to speak disrespectfully of Mr. Crawley down in the servants' hall and Mrs. Hughes had to squash this conversation as firmly as possible. "Not when I'm in charge!" she told them sternly. "Now. Tea's over. Back to work." Handing the button off to Miss O'Brien, she was at last able to escape to her sitting room and get back to her own work.

Mrs. Hughes worked her way through piles of invoices and could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel when she heard the back door close softly. She didn't think much of it - likely just Thomas or Miss O'Brien going outside for a cigarette break - until she heard someone enter. The footsteps followed the corridor to Mr. Carson's pantry and went inside, before the door was closed firmly. She hadn't been aware that he'd gone out. She had other things to think about, however, so she went back to her work.

#####

Mr. Carson sat at his desk, staring into space. It was worse than bad. Grigg was on the run from the law and was asking for food, shelter, and money, in exchange for his silence on Mr. Carson's past. He didn't know how he could manage this situation. He could find ways of providing food and shelter, but those were rather underhand, if not outright immoral. Additionally, he knew that it was only a matter of time before Grigg would became impatient in his demands for money as well as food and shelter. Mr. Carson allowed himself to consider the possibility of refusing the demands outright and the possible consequences. He had no doubt that Grigg would have the story of Charles Carson's time in the music halls all over the village in no time at all. Village news was Abbey news, so word of his shameful past would reach the family and staff. Lord Grantham would surely dismiss him, and even if he did not, could Mr. Carson ever command the respect of the staff if they knew what he had once been?

There was a knock on the door and Mrs. Hughes walked in. Immediately she noticed his dejected mood, but she did not speak of it right away. "Are the new family going to be with us for dinner on Tuesday? Mrs. Patmore was asking."

"I'm not sure yet," Mr. Carson answered, not looking at her. "I'll let you know when I find out."

Mrs. Hughes tilted her head to one side. "Are you quite all right, Mr. Carson?"

He looked up at Mrs. Hughes. Her face showed her concern; she knew he was upset about something. She always knew when something was wrong, though he still did not often admit openly what he could not completely conceal from her. Mr. Carson tried to imagine what she would say if she knew about the Cheerful Charlies. He could see her, in his mind's eye, looking at him with disdain. There would be no more glasses of sherry or cups of tea, no more shared, unspoken jokes. She would never respect him again, though her character would not allow her to openly show any disrespect. Mr. Carson saw their friendship slowly falling apart and his authority downstairs slipping through his fingers.

"Fine, Mrs. Hughes," he answered. "Just a little tired is all." He could see that she didn't believe him, but he didn't need her to. He only needed her to stop questioning him.

"I'm not surprised," she commented. "You'd better turn in early tonight, Mr. Carson."

"Oh, that won't be necessary," he told her. "I'll be fine."

She raised an eyebrow and smiled a little before turning to go. "Whatever you say, Mr. Carson."

He relaxed and returned that slight smile. "I'll see you at dinner, Mrs. Hughes."

Mrs. Hughes left the room with a quick nod and closed the door behind her. Mr. Carson was decided. He could not stand by while Grigg ruined his reputation in front of the Crawleys and in front of good, respectable people like Mrs. Hughes, Mrs. Patmore, and all of the other staff. He would do everything he could to protect his own respectability and get Charlie Grigg out of Downton for good.

_To be continued…_

**a/n: "Respectable" is a term used a little differently now than it was back then. Certain professions were not considered respectable, and singing and dancing on the stage was one of them. It didn't really have anything to do with the individual being worthy of respect because of their own behavior and attitudes. You could have a really despicable person practicing law, mending roads, or working in domestic service, but they would be considered respectable because of how they made their living.**

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	2. Where is She?

Mr. Carson managed to scatter his footmen and hall boys to work in different parts of the house in such a way as his brief absence would not be noted. Mrs. Hughes might notice, but she would not raise a fuss; she would simply ask him quietly if all was well. He slipped out the back door with a sack of food in his hand. He would have to find Anna later and give her some false explanation for his taking food from the store cupboard, hopefully before she had mentioned it to anyone else. Right now, however, Mr. Carson had to make his way with all possible haste to the empty cottage where Grigg would be impatiently waiting. The man really wanted money, in the end, but the butler hoped to put him off until he could come up with a plan to get rid of his blackmailer without giving him any. Giving Grigg money would be only a temporary solution; as soon as it was spent, the blackguard would surely return to Downton with the same demands as he was making now.

Mr. Carson's brow was thunderous as he pushed open the cottage door and found his former partner reclined on a dusty armchair, snoring loudly, a newspaper across his stomach and a flask on the floor.

"Grigg," he said loudly, not hesitating to wake the man.

Mr. Grigg blinked his eyes. "There's no need to shout, Charlie," he grumbled, sitting upright and tossing the newspaper to the floor. "Have you brought me what I asked for?"

Mr. Carson tossed the sack he had brought on a table nearby. "Food."

"That's not all I asked for, Charlie," Grigg asserted. "I need some money. You wouldn't begrudge your old friend five pounds when he's in need, would you?"

"You are _not_ my friend," Mr. Carson told him sharply. "And I haven't got any money for you. Give me some time."

"Hmph," Mr. Grigg scoffed. "I'll give you two days, Charlie."

Mr. Carson stayed standing in the room, his large presence meant to intimidate. His companion, however, was not susceptible to this tactic, due to impudence, too much drink, or both.

"What do you want, Charlie? You say I'm not your friend, so why are you still here? Don't you want to run back to your precious Abbey?"

"What did you do with Alice?" Mr. Carson demanded. "Did you leave her at some friend's house while you went out to 'earn' some money?"

"I don't know where she is. We split up years ago."

Mr. Carson tried to contain his rage, speaking in a low voice. "You didn't marry her?" he asked in disbelief.

"I told you, we separated." Mr. Grigg's unconcerned attitude provoked Mr. Carson even further.

"Where is she?!"

Mr. Grigg shrugged carelessly. "How should I know?"

Mr. Carson was fuming. He opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it. He turned and left the cottage, slamming the door behind him. He walked back to the house, his anger carrying him along much faster than usual. Mr. Carson was still nowhere near calm when he reached Downton Abbey. He hoped he would be able to spend some time alone in his pantry to regain his composure before he had to serve the family or interact with other staff. He felt like a boiling kettle left on the stove too long. If he didn't find a way to get off the stove or turn the heat off, surely he would explode.

Mr. Carson was lucky enough to find the corridor empty when he arrived. He had to walk very quietly past Mrs. Hughes's sitting room to avoid drawing her attention. If he was going to lose his temper he'd rather it were with one of the footmen or hall boys than with Mrs. Hughes. She was in her sitting room when he passed, but she was hard at work and didn't notice him. He breathed a sigh of relief when he finally reached his pantry and closed the door behind him.

Mrs. Hughes had not looked up as Mr. Carson passed, but she had noted his return. She knew the sound of his step in the corridor, so she could identify him without looking up from her books. She wondered where he had been, for the second time today, and what was troubling him. He had been behaving strangely recently and she couldn't make any sense of it. Mr. Carson did behave oddly from time to time, but usually she knew why. This time Mrs. Hughes hadn't the slightest idea. Perhaps she would learn soon what was wrong, or whatever it was would resolve itself and he would be himself again.

#####

Mrs. Hughes did her quiet work in the servery that evening during dinner. Other staff rushed in and out, footmen carrying new dishes up and Daisy taking dirty dishes back down. Mr. Carson entered and she let him know what she was doing with the dessert services. He appeared tense; it seemed the dinner was not going well.

"We're missing a sugar sifter," he grumbled. "I know I put three out."

"I was talking to Anna earlier," Mrs. Hughes commented casually.

Mr. Carson stiffened. "Why? What's she been saying?" he asked angrily.

She was taken aback by his tone. "Whatever's the matter?"

"What did Anna say?!" he demanded.

"Only that she thinks Thomas is bullying William," Mrs. Hughes answered, still bewildered by his behavior.

Mr. Carson relaxed. "She may have a point," he replied calmly. "I'll keep an eye out." Then he found the sugar shaker he had been searching for and left the room.

Mrs. Hughes was beginning to get worried. Mr. Carson had stealthily left the house twice in one day and had been as tight as a bowstring when she made what she thought was an innocent remark about a conversation she'd had with Anna. Certainly Mr. Carson had not quarrelled with Anna; that was about the most unlikely scenario she could imagine.

She shook her head and continued her work.

#####

Mrs. Hughes went to Mr. Carson's pantry late that evening just before she went to bed. She found him closely studying one of the silver candelabra in the dim light. "Look at that scratch," he told her, pointing it out. "I'll have to get it sorted out when they're up in London."

Mrs. Hughes looked. "You can hardly see it."

"But, _I'll_ know it's there." He put the piece back into the silver pantry and locked it.

"Are you all right now?" she asked in concern. "Only you seemed a little upset earlier."

At last Mr. Carson faced her. "I'm sorry about that. I'm just-" In the face of her concerned expression, he momentarily considered telling her of his troubles, but that temptation passed very quickly. What would be the point of quieting Grigg if he told her his story anyway? "I'm a bit tired."

Mrs. Hughes seemed to accept his explanation and made some sympathetic remark. He wondered if she really believed him or if she would try to gain his confidence again later. After a brief mention of the evening's dinner, she left him and went upstairs. He locked up soon after and went to bed.

He lay awake for a long time, his brief conversation with Grigg at the cottage repeating itself in his mind. Alice. Mr. Carson had thought of her often when he entered service after leaving the stage, but with time her memory pained him less and made fewer appearances in his thoughts. Seeing Grigg again had brought it all back to him - his plans to marry her, his dreams of a family, her betrayal. Now to find that the woman he had once loved, and perhaps loved still, had been abandoned by Grigg left him with a variety of feelings. He was angry at Grigg and a little angry at Alice, though knowing that she was free from Grigg and somewhere out in the world gave him new hope. It seemed unlikely that she was still on the boards with her sister, so Mr. Carson might be able to find her and rekindle their old romance. On the other hand, he did feel proud of the life he had worked to create at Downton, and if he were able to find her and woo her, he would be giving up a great deal to marry her. He could remember how desperately he had wanted to marry her, but that would not necessarily still be the case. He had changed, after all, and she likely had as well. He might be better off leaving well enough alone and trying to forget her. For all he knew she had married someone else by now. Mr. Carson went back and forth in his mind about whether or not to search her out, until he eventually fell asleep, no closer to an answer than when he first spoke to Grigg about her.

_To be continued…_

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	3. A Man of Integrity and Honor

**Thank you for all of your support!**

Mr. Carson stood in the stairwell alone for a few minutes, trying to gather his thoughts. He could hardly believe what had just transpired. Grigg had given him two days to find some money, but he had apparently become impatient and turned up at the Abbey only a day later. The man did just as he had promised and told Lord Grantham all about Mr. Carson's past life in the music halls. What was shocking to the butler now was the earl's reaction. He had calmly handed Grigg an outrageous sum of money, given him his marching orders, and waved away Mr. Carson's resignation. The problem that had been troubling him for two days was simply gone, his shame witnessed by four people whose respect he feared losing, but who he felt fairly sure would keep silent on the subject. He felt a little dazed as he walked up the stairs to his room to change back into his livery. He should feel ecstatic, or at least relieved, but he was simply bewildered. His thoughts of Alice were temporarily pushed to the back of his mind as he pondered his unexpected rescue from complete humiliation.

Naturally, Mrs. Hughes noticed Mr. Carson's demeanor for the rest of the day. He was no longer behaving strangely, leaving the house at odd times or snapping at her for no apparent reason. Instead, he just looked glum and barely spoke at all beyond giving orders. He didn't speak to Mrs. Hughes at dinner, though they usually talked. She had a feeling that Mr. Carson was deep in thought about something that troubled him and didn't realize the degree of his own abstraction. Mrs. Hughes found him sitting at his desk, staring into space, when she went to his pantry to say good night to him. He answered her, but she wondered if he had actually even seen her or if his response had come by habit. She shook her head as she walked down the corridor toward the stairs. If he kept this up, she might have to insist that he tell her what was wrong.

#####

The next afternoon, the house was abuzz with activity as family and servants alike prepared to attend a special ceremony at the Downton Cottage Hospital. Mrs. Crawley was being installed as Chair of the Board of the Hospital. Everyone knew that the dowager Lady Grantham was not pleased at having to share power over the hospital. It would be interesting to see how she bore being unseated as undisputed despot.

Mrs. Hughes was in her sitting room getting ready to go, checking her reflection in the mirror, when Mr. Carson appeared at her door, hat in hand, looking gloomy.

"If you're going to the ceremony, I thought we might walk together," he suggested.

"Certainly, I'm going," Mrs. Hughes answered. "I want to see the old bat's face when they announce it. I must try not to look too cheerful."

_Cheerful? Surely she doesn't know. Does she?_ Mr. Carson looked at Mrs. Hughes, now making a mock serious face in her little mirror, and he could see that her comment was not aimed in his direction.

"Or shouldn't I talk like that in your presence?" she asked him teasingly.

"Do you find me _very_ ridiculous, Mrs. Hughes? Putting on airs and graces I've no right to?"

She turned to him, a curious frown on her face. "What's brought this on?"

"Nothing. Except at times I wonder if I'm just a sad old fool," he replied quietly.

Mrs. Hughes faced him squarely and spoke earnestly. "Mr. Carson, you are a man of integrity and honor, who raises the tone of this household by being part of it. So no more of that, please."

He stood silently in her doorway, studying her intently. She looked right back at him, wordlessly daring him to disagree. After a few moments, he relaxed and smiled a little.

Mrs. Hughes returned his smile. "Now wait while I fetch my coat."

Mr. Carson held the back door open for her and they started down the path side-by-side. He felt a bit better after hearing her little speech. He was glad that he had managed to keep his secret from Mrs. Hughes; he realized now just how much her respect meant to him. If she had been in the library yesterday to hear Grigg's story, he was sure she would not think so well of him as she seemed to now. It occurred to Mr. Carson that it might not be quite as meaningful to have maintained her respect under false pretenses, but he feared losing it too much to consider confiding in her.

#####

Mr. Carson was glad when Lord Grantham released him from his attendance in the library. He was tired and absentminded, still deep in thought over all that had happened. He made his way slowly down the stairs and into his pantry. No one else was about, so he didn't bother closing his door. He fell into his armchair with a heavy sigh.

"That sounded ominous," Mrs. Hughes remarked from the doorway, a half-smile on her face.

"Not ominous," Mr. Carson replied. "I'm just tired."

She raised an eyebrow. "Tired," she repeated. "Well, is there anything I can get you?"

Mr. Carson wanted to send her away. He thought she might try to find out what was troubling him and he was afraid that he might not be strong enough at the moment to resist her sympathetic wheedling. But he wanted her company all the same, so he decided to take his chances. "I could do with a glass of sherry," he admitted at last.

Mrs. Hughes smiled. "Well, that's easily sorted." She found the sherry and poured two glasses, handing him one and sitting down with the other. After a sip, she began her gentle attack. "Do tell me why you're so tired lately, Mr. Carson. Are you ill? Perhaps you should pay Dr. Clarkson a visit."

"No, I'm perfectly well, Mrs. Hughes," he insisted.

"Perhaps his lordship is overworking you then?" she suggested. "Or Mr. Bates's physical limitations are making more work for you? You really shouldn't take it all on yourself. You have two footmen who are perfectly capable of providing that assistance."

Mr. Carson's shoulders straightened. "I can certainly keep up with the work that's expected of me, Mrs. Hughes," he answered, a little more sharply than he had intended. "I hope you're not suggesting otherwise."

"Of course not," Mrs. Hughes replied. "You should know me better than that. I know you know your business better than anyone in this house." She paused before adding with a twinkle in her eye, "except me, perhaps."

Mr. Carson relaxed, but resisted the temptation to return her smile. He must not give in.

"Come, Mr. Carson, you and I are good friends. Surely you will allow me to comfort you when things are going poorly for you."

He shook his head. "Not this time, Mrs. Hughes. In this situation, comforting _me_ would be uncomfortable to _you_."

Mrs. Hughes was now overcome with curiosity. "I'm sure that can't be true," she argued. "I'm made of stern stuff, Mr. Carson. Surely nothing has happened that I can't hear without feeling faint and calling for my smelling salts."

"It's only that I know your opinion of me would suffer if you heard what I have to say." Mr. Carson winced inwardly. _If you heard what I have to say._ He had probably already lost this battle if he was talking of his worries as something to be told.

"Oh my. I think you _have_ to tell me now. Unless you've committed a murder, there's hardly a thing in the world that could diminish my respect for you."

Mr. Carson sighed. "Oh, very well." She had insisted that nothing could damage her respect for him, but he wasn't entirely convinced. He wondered how much of the story he should tell.

"You needn't worry about your privacy, Mr. Carson," Mrs. Hughes assured him. "Whatever you say will be kept strictly confidential."

"I know that," he replied. "I trust you."

She smiled. "Go on, then. Whenever you're ready."

"When I was younger - much younger - I was not respectable. Before I went into service, I performed in the music halls." Mr. Carson looked up at Mrs. Hughes to see how she took this first part of his story. She was clearly very surprised, but beyond that he could not be sure.

"I certainly wasn't expecting _that_!" she exclaimed. "So you sang and danced?"

"I did. I was part of a double act called the Cheerful Charlies, with a fellow called Charlie Grigg."

For the sake of Mr. Carson's dignity, Mrs. Hughes was trying not to show her amusement, which she knew he would misinterpret, but she couldn't suppress a bemused smile. "You've surprised me, Mr. Carson, and no mistake! Did you enjoy it?"

"I did for a time. I was young and I liked the spotlight and the attention. And I was more... that is, I was much taller than Grigg, and I received more attention than he."

Mrs. Hughes did not hide her smile now. "You mean you were handsomer than he was, don't you?"

Mr. Carson flushed. "Well, many said I was, though I wouldn't presume to-"

"Mr. Carson, perhaps we should move on," Mrs. Hughes suggested. "You were on the stage as the more handsome half of a double act. What comes next?"

He nodded. "We did well, but after a few years Grigg stole money from one of the theatres we played. He disappeared and I was left without a partner. I could have continued on my own, but I'd had my fill of that life, so I went into service."

"And now I think we come to the part of the story that has you so upset," Mrs. Hughes conjectured.

Mr. Carson was silent for a little while before he spoke quietly. "Grigg turned up here a few days ago. He was on the run from the law for some petty crime. He wanted food, shelter, and money. He threatened to tell everyone of my past if I didn't help him."

"Good God! What did you do?"

"This is the worst part, Mrs. Hughes," Mr. Carson told her. "I let him stay in an empty cottage on the estate. I...I fed him from the kitchen here. I didn't want anyone to know what I had been."

"You haven't been that man for many years, Mr. Carson. You have made a life here that you should be proud of," she said quietly.

"I didn't want to give him money. Else he would have spent it all and come back again, demanding more."

"Of course you couldn't give him money."

"He came to the house yesterday."

"What? When was this?" Mrs. Hughes wanted to know.

"Most of you were in the pub to see that traveling salesman. I was on an errand in the village as well. Mr. Bates answered the door and once Grigg pushed his way into the library, he sent Anna running to find me. By the time I got there, his lordship and Lady Sybil had also arrived."

Mrs. Hughes was focused, wide-eyed, on Mr. Carson's face. She felt as though she were reading a novel of suspense, on the edge of her seat to find out what happened next. "And then?"

"Grigg told them everything about my past on the stage and complained that I hadn't given him all he wanted. I admitted to everything I'd done - putting him in the cottage and stealing food from the house. And I gave his lordship my resignation."

"I take it he did not accept your resignation."

"No, he did not."

"He'd have been a fool if he did," she murmured.

Mr. Carson couldn't help smiling a little. He'd told her the worst of it, and Mrs. Hughes had reacted with surprise, amusement, and curiosity, but not with anything remotely resembling disapproval. "I should have had more faith," he remarked.

"What?" Mrs. Hughes was confused.

"I meant that I should have known you would stand my friend," Mr. Carson clarified. "Thank you, Mrs. Hughes."

She waved away his thanks. "Of course I'm your friend. But as your friend I demand that you tell me the end of the story. What happened with Mr. Grigg?"

Mr. Carson felt more relaxed as he finished the tale, which he thought Mrs. Hughes would find quite amusing. He could not yet laugh at it himself, but now that he was assured of her continued regard, he was much calmer. "So his lordship gave him twenty pounds and told him that if he showed his face again in the area, he'd be prosecuted for theft and blackmail and would serve time."

"I'd give a lot to have seen that wicked man's face when his lordship sent him packing!" Mrs. Hughes said darkly. "I'm only sorry to hear he got twenty pounds out of it all."

"You might have a chat with Lady Sybil if you want to hear more," Mr. Carson suggested, only half joking. "I could see that she found it all very amusing, just as you do."

"Do you think she'll keep silent?" Mrs. Hughes wondered.

"Most likely," he replied. "I can't be sure, but I don't think her amusement was at my humiliation. I think it was just the whole scene with his lordship and that knave that made her laugh. I doubt she's seen anything like that before."

"Certainly not! She's really still in the nursery, at least as much as a girl her age can be. And she's very sweet, more so than her sisters. And don't feel you need to defend your Lady Mary, Mr. Carson. I mean no insult to her or to Lady Edith. I simply believe that Lady Sybil is _exceptionally_ sweet."

"Well, I won't argue with that, Mrs. Hughes. I feel quite sure that Anna and Mr. Bates will keep the details of that lively scene to themselves as well, and I've no fear of his lordship. He was surprisingly sympathetic." Mr. Carson felt more relief than he knew how to express. Not only had Mrs. Hughes supported him, but he felt pretty safe with the others who knew his secret. He only regretted, just as the housekeeper did, that Grigg had taken twenty pounds off Lord Grantham. There was no help for it, however, so Mr. Carson would be grateful and try to move on.

Mrs. Hughes rose from her seat, picked up the decanter of sherry, and refilled her own glass. "How about a second glass, Mr. Carson? Shall we toast Mr. Grigg's departure from the neighborhood?"

Mr. Carson allowed her to pour him another glass. "A toast, yes," he agreed. "But leave Grigg out of it. I suggest a toast to friendship."

Mrs. Hughes nodded her agreement and they raised their glasses in a toast.

_To be continued…_

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	4. Keeping Up with the Crawleys

**Thank you for all of your lovely support. I couldn't do any of this without you.**

Mrs. Hughes sighed inwardly as the three Crawley girls left Lady Mary's bedroom together and walked down the gallery, on their way to breakfast with Lord Grantham. They often seemed to move as one, which she found ironic, considering that they did not all get on together. Mrs. Hughes hoped that she might find a moment when they were separated, but she had her own duties to attend to, and certainly did not have time to follow the young ladies around the house in pursuit of her own ends. She briefly considered recruiting Anna to help her, but in the end she decided against that. It was best if she involved no one else.

Mrs. Hughes had her own problems to deal with, after all, mostly to do with Mrs. Crawley and Mr. Matthew. The lady and gentleman themselves did not cause her a moment's worry, but their presence in the village had caused trouble in the big house and the dower house. Lady Mary disliked Mr. Matthew as soon as they clapped eyes on each other for the first time. Mrs. Crawley continued to challenge the dowager countess's authority over the hospital. The rest of the Crawleys viewed the new family a little more charitably than did Lady Mary and her grandmother, but they argued amongst themselves about the place of this new heir in their lives. This discord trickled down to the servants' hall as well, where varying opinions were expressed about these same matters. This was what Mrs. Hughes considered an "atmosphere" and she had no patience for it. If she had spent a deal of time thinking all of it over, she might find that she could sympathize with one side over another, but she really couldn't bring herself to be quite so emotional over the fortunes of the family she served. The Crawleys were in no danger of starving or losing their home anytime soon, so she preferred to get on with running the house. She certainly would not have Lady Mary marry a man she didn't like, but otherwise she found she was less worried about these things than most everyone in the house, upstairs and downstairs. Still, because the rest were so concerned in the whole affair, she couldn't completely avoid it herself. Mr. Carson was in a state of irritation over anything that touched his precious Lady Mary. Miss O'Brien was even more unpleasant than usual about all of it, and though Anna did not make trouble, she was still privy to what the young ladies thought of the situation. Mrs. Hughes could only thank God for the rare meal at which the new heir was not a topic of discussion.

#####

After Grigg had been gone a week, Mr. Carson finally returned to the subject of Alice Neal. His anger at Grigg for the way he had spoken of her had lessened and he now began to feel a great deal of curiosity. He wondered if Alice were married and whether he ought to try to get in touch with her again now that he knew she and Grigg had separated. Mr. Carson had spent years feeling angry at both of them, but now he thought he might have a chance to go back, in a way. He could not get back the lost years, but if he were able to contact Alice, perhaps they could start again. Part of him wanted to leave her in the past, but a much larger part of him wanted to see her again, wanted to know if they could be as they were before. He _had_ loved her very much, after all. Mr. Carson decided to write to a few old friends to see if he might find out what had happened to Alice without writing to her himself. He was not quite ready to take that step, but he did want to know what had occurred in her life since they had last spoken. Mr. Carson posted three very carefully worded letters to former friends of his. When he had gone into service, he had not kept in touch with friends from his theatre days, but neither had he burned many bridges, so he expected more or less cordial replies to any letters that reached their addressees.

In the meantime, he found himself worrying about the fortunes of the Crawley family. Lady Mary did not like Mr. Matthew and Mrs. Crawley and the dowager countess had begun butting heads almost from the moment of the new family's arrival in the village. However, the rest of the Crawleys seemed to receive them more cordially. Mr. Carson did not approve of any of it. It seemed wrong to him that this man - a complete stranger, though a distant cousin - should inherit everything. The title Mr. Carson would concede to Mr. Crawley; Lady Mary could not be an earl. But when it came to the estate, he saw it as a personal affront that it was entailed away from the eldest daughter. Who else should inherit but Lady Mary? This chap Mr. Crawley was not a bad man, but Mr. Carson didn't see him as being worthy of the estate or of her, though the rest of the family appeared to hope for their union. This seemed a vain hope, however, as Lady Mary had taken him instantly into dislike. And why should she like the man she was passed over for? It was becoming more apparent to Mr. Carson that the law would side with Mr. Crawley, but it grieved him deeply, for Lady Mary's sake.

#####

"Might I have a word, milady?" Mrs. Hughes asked. She had finally caught Lady Sybil on her own one morning when she went down to breakfast before her sisters.

Lady Sybil smiled. "Of course, Mrs. Hughes. What is it?"

The housekeeper stepped a little closer and lowered her voice. "It's about Mr. Carson, milady. He's told me about the chap who came to the house, the one he used to work with. I understand you were present when that man was here."

"Yes, I was. I got to the library before Papa did and I stayed with Bates."

"I just want to make sure you know how important it is to keep that story to yourself. It would be very difficult for Mr. Carson if anyone found out about it."

Lady Sybil looked sympathetic. "Poor Carson; he _was_ quite embarrassed."

Embarrassed was rather an understatement, but Mrs. Hughes had no reason to quarrel with the girl about the expression. "Yes, he was. But if you were to let it slip in front of anyone who wasn't there, the story could make its way around the house and probably into the village, which would be very uncomfortable for Mr. Carson."

"Yes, you're right, Mrs. Hughes. I will be careful."

"Thank you, milady," Mrs. Hughes replied.

Lady Sybil gave her a smile and a nod and made her way downstairs.

Mrs. Hughes had done what she could. The rest was up to others.

_To be continued…_

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	5. Letters and Life

_Dear Charles,_

_I am glad to hear from you after such a long time, and to know that you are well. I'd heard that you left the stage, but I never knew what it was that you did next. Butler at the great country estate of the earl of Grantham! Quite impressive. I was sure you would go on to do great things, and I'm glad I was right. It feels a little odd to address you as 'Charles,' rather than 'Charlie,' but I daresay I'll get used to it._

_I moved on to more respectable employment a few years after you did. I got a job in a bakery. I married the baker's daughter and when he retired I took over the business. We've got 3 children and we've been happy. Singing and dancing was all well and good for a little while, but I'm glad I didn't keep at it for very long. I like a quiet, steady life, and I probably appreciate it more because I have experienced the alternative._

_As for whether I kept up with any of our old friends, the answer is mostly no. I haven't been in contact with many of them. However, I do regularly correspond with Danny Martin, who I'm sure you remember seemed always to know everyone's business. He keeps up with almost everyone and every so often he sends me a report, whether I ask for it or not._

_Let me know if there's anyone specific you are looking to track down, but I can give you a little information on those I am sure concern you most. Your old partner Grigg never shows his face in any theatre, but he turns up all over England, usually on the run from the law. You're well rid of that scoundrel. I hope for your sake that you never lay eyes on him again. I also seem to remember you were very taken with Alice Neal at one time. She and her sister continued for several years after you left and their act was successful, but then Lizzie was taken ill and they had to give it up. Their brother in Lancashire took them in and Alice cared for Lizzie until she died. Alice stayed on with her brother after that. I'm not sure what she finds to do in Lancashire, but she never married. I seem to remember that you and she did not part on good terms, but I've enclosed her address, just in case you would like to contact her. I never speak to her, so I won't mention to her that I've been in touch with you. I only have her address because I got it from Danny so I could send a note of condolence when Lizzie died._

_And what about you? You're the butler of Downton Abbey, but how does that suit you? It seems that it might be a lonely job, but I do hope you have a few friends. I hope you serve a fair master. I know you've been successful, but I hope you are happy as well._

_Sincerely,_

_Billy Woods_

Mr. Carson folded the letter and put it back in the envelope, but the slip of paper with Alice Neal's direction on it lay on his desk. There was no rush for him to make a decision, but for his own peace of mind he didn't want to put it off too long. If he decided not to write to her, he would be putting her firmly into the past. If he did write to her, there were risks. Suppose she responded angrily? Suppose she responded positively, but he found he didn't like her anymore? Suppose she responded well, and he found he was still in love with her and they wanted to get married? He would have to leave Downton and all he had accomplished there. Mr. Carson couldn't decide what to do. Perhaps he should seek some outside advice.

#####

Mrs. Hughes was hard at work when she heard a knock at her door. She looked up to find Mr. Carson in the doorway with a tea tray.

"What a nice surprise!" She got up from her desk. "It was about time I took a break. Your timing is excellent."

He set the tray down on her table. "Good, I'm glad." Mrs. Hughes reached for the teapot, but Mr. Carson was before her. "I'll pour today," he told her.

"What a treat," she remarked, taking her cup of tea, fixed just the way she liked it. After ten years working together as butler and housekeeper, they knew each other's ways fairly well.

Mr. Carson sat down with his cup. "I'm glad bringing tea to you right now is so convenient, but I'll admit I have a selfish purpose."

Mrs. Hughes raised her eyebrows. "Oh?"

"I'd like your advice, Mrs. Hughes."

She nodded. "Of course. What do need my advice about?"

"It's about a friend I haven't seen in many years," Mr. Carson began. "Mrs. Hughes, do you think it a good idea to seek out someone from one's past, even if you parted badly?"

Mrs. Hughes looked thoughtful for a few moments. "Sometimes," she replied. "It's hard to say absolutely, but I do think it's often a good thing to make peace with someone who treated you badly, even if you still can't be friends."

"You're probably right. I hadn't thought of it that way."

"What do you mean? How _did_ you think of it?" she wanted to know.

"I was thinking that writing a letter to my friend obliged me to reestablish the friendship," Mr. Carson replied.

"I don't think so," Mrs. Hughes answered. "Your friend may have that expectation, but I don't think you have to if you don't want to. Why not write a short letter? 'I hope life is treating you well' and that sort of thing. See how your friend responds and you can go from there."

Mr. Carson sat up a little straighter. "Yes, I will. Thank you, Mrs. Hughes. I knew you would have a sensible suggestion."

She smiled. "Let me know how you get on with your friend. I hope all goes well."

Mr. Carson only nodded. He had no intention of talking any further to Mrs. Hughes about his correspondence with Alice. He wasn't sure why, but it seemed wrong somehow to burden her with his thoughts on the subject. He _was_ glad of her advice just now. He felt now that he could write to Alice and simply see where it led.

#####

_Dear Alice,_

_I hope you will accept my delayed condolences for the loss of your sister Lizzie. I only learned of her death recently. I am very sorry. I didn't know her well, but she was always kind to me and I remember her fondly._

_Since we last met, I went into service and have been fortunate enough to rise to the rank of butler in my chosen profession. I am in good health and well-satisfied with my place._

_I hope this letter finds you well and happy. How are you? What have you been doing since you left the stage?_

_Sincerely,_

_Charles Carson_

Mr. Carson wasn't at all happy with his letter, but he didn't know how to make it any better. He was determined not to be too effusive or to make any romantic overtures, but he could not think of much to say. The thought occurred to him briefly that he should ask Mrs. Hughes for her help, but he dismissed the idea immediately. Such a conversation would be awkward and uncomfortable to the extreme. He and the housekeeper were friends, but there was still a certain limit to how much they shared about their own private lives. Mr. Carson preferred it that way, and he felt that if he shared this part of himself with Mrs. Hughes, he would be crossing a boundary that he had carefully guarded for years. He sealed the letter and posted it as soon as he could, hoping for the best, but fearing the worst.

#####

Mr. Carson left the table and went to his pantry, where he wanted to look over a few things before he served the upstairs breakfast. He'd been seated for only about ten minutes when someone rapped quite loudly on his door. He sighed and was about to reprimand whoever was bothering him when Mrs. Hughes opened the door and approached his desk hurriedly.

"Mr. Carson, you'd better come," she told him gravely.

He stood up from his desk and took a second look at Mrs. Hughes. Something wasn't right, although he couldn't quite put his finger on what. Was she nervous? Surprised? Shocked? Frightened? He never saw her anything but calm and collected when they were together, except on the occasions when he irritated her, but right now she looked rather shaken. The only conclusion he could come to was that something dreadful had happened. He approached Mrs. Hughes. "What is it? What's happened?" he asked quietly.

"It's the Turkish gentleman," she replied, just as softly. "Thomas found him when he went up with his tea just now."

Mr. Carson gasped. "Found him? Do you mean… dead?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I mean." Mrs. Hughes took a shaking breath. "It's rather a shock, but I'm sure you'll know what to do."

"Yes, thank you, Mrs. Hughes." He started out of the room and she followed.

"Do let me know if there's any way I can help, Mr. Carson," she told him.

He nodded and made his way to the servants' hall to question Thomas, who was surrounded by most of the other servants. Once he had gotten the story from the footman, he headed immediately for the stairs and Lord Grantham's dressing room, but before he was out of sight, he caught Mrs. Hughes's eye and inclined his head in the direction of the servants' hall, where all and sundry were gathered to hear Thomas's horrid tale. She nodded her understanding, with a slight, rueful grin. She was back in her element. Calm flowed through her body as she went to work quelling the chatter.

Mrs. Hughes was busy all day trying to keep the maids calm after the sudden death of Mr. Pamuk, not to mention watching Mr. Bates, who was clearly hiding an injury of some sort. She rolled her eyes and walked along the gallery and then down the stairs. It wasn't more than she could handle, not by a long chalk, but it irritated Mrs. Hughes to have to continue this completely unnecessary argument with the valet. Mr. Bates would repeatedly deny that anything was wrong with him, but she'd have it from him eventually. If he would just tell her now, they could both stop wasting time arguing about it. Oh well, it was no worse than Mr. Carson and his stage partner's visit to Downton. Over and over he insisted that he was just tired, but ultimately he told her the story. Mrs. Hughes shook her head. Men.

There was, however, one man she was still glad to see at the end of the night. Stubborn he might be, but after a day like this, there was nothing that soothed Mrs. Hughes's nerves more than a chat with Mr. Carson. Sometimes he soothed her by speaking calmly and wisely about whatever troubled them and sometimes he did the opposite. She was equally calmed when she was called upon to quiet _his_ nerves after a trying day. Today, however, they were both simply tired, physically and mentally. Everyone in the house needed comfort after such an event, and the butler and housekeeper were the only two people who received no comfort from others. It was important, therefore, that they spend these few quiet moments together, as always keeping one another from going mad.

"Are you all right then, Mrs. Hughes?" Mr. Carson asked her. He watched her carefully as he sipped his wine. "You've made sure the maids are all asleep, but how about you?"

Her brows drew together and she sighed. "I'm fine. At least I think so. I've hardly had a moment to stop all day. I'm not sure I'd know if I wasn't all right." She sipped her wine.

"Well, I hope you'd let me know if it was all too much."

"Now just a moment, Mr. Carson," she argued. "I am perfectly capable of managing this. I've no need for any special treatment from you."

He smiled a little. "Now that sounds like you, Mrs. Hughes. I'd say you're fit as a fiddle, though perhaps a little more tired than usual. Surely you'll admit to that much."

She relented. "Certainly, I'm tired. And you?"

"Tired, but well."

Mrs. Hughes smiled now. "Good. I'm glad. Thought I certainly hope we don't have another such day anytime soon."

"I'll second that," Mr. Carson replied before draining his glass. "Shall we go up?"

Her glass was empty. "Yes, it's past time."

Mr. Carson locked his pantry and they made their way side-by-side down the corridor until they parted with soft goodnights to climb their separate staircases.

#####

Mrs. Hughes watched Lord Grantham's face as he paused before answering her question. She could not guess what the man was thinking, but she didn't have to.

"I'm concerned about Bates," he told her at last. "He says it's just his old wound playing up, but I wonder if it isn't something else."

"Where is Mr. Bates now?" Mrs. Hughes asked.

"He's in my dressing room."

"Leave it to me, milord."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes," Lord Grantham replied. "And do let me know if there's any way I can help."

She nodded an acknowledgment and they parted, the earl heading downstairs for his breakfast and Mrs. Hughes making her way briskly to his dressing room. She opened the door and was not surprised to find Mr. Bates in obvious pain. He straightened up and answered her inquiry with some excuse, but she turned away and closed the dressing room door before facing him again.

"Just so long as you know, I'm not leaving until you tell me," she challenged him. She stood eye-to-eye with the man. In spite of his limp, Mr. Bates could no doubt intimidate his share of men, but faced with Mrs. Hughes again, now determined to make him speak, he knew there was no point in denying it further.

"I hope you have a strong stomach," he remarked.

When Mr. Bates sat down and slowly pulled up his trousers, she was horrified, to the point of tears, by the state of his leg, covered in bruises and bloody wounds. "Oh my God." He did not reply, only sat looking back at her. After a moment she composed herself, to some degree, and moved closer. "What on earth is that contraption?" she wanted to know.

"It's a limp corrector," Mr. Bates answered quietly.

"Is that what's been causing you so much pain lately?"

"It is," he replied. "But sometimes you have to endure some pain to achieve what you want."

Mrs. Hughes scoffed. "I have a feeling that your limp corrector will cause more trouble than it corrects. You should stop wearing that terrible thing."

"I can't. If I slack, it won't work."

"If you don't slack, no doubt you'll do more damage to yourself," she stated firmly. "Mr. Bates, you're lucky if you haven't got an infection! You should know better. You've been in a war. You understand that sort of thing."

Mr. Bates did not speak.

"Now, I'll tell you what we're going to do." Mrs. Hughes was all business. "You're going to go to your room now and remove that so-called limp corrector, then you're going to bring it to my sitting room, and after that we'll go out together and get rid of it."

"I don't suppose there's any point in resisting."

"None at all, Mr. Bates. You may not be under my jurisdiction, but a healthy staff is just as much under my purview as Mr. Carson's - probably more. It's something I take very seriously. Now be off with you and I'll see you soon in my sitting room."

#####

It wasn't long before Mr. Carson received a reply from Alice to his letter. Her tone was cordial from beginning to end, which was a relief to him after sending what he still saw as a bad letter. She told him that she had been staying with her brother in Clitheroe since she left the stage, and that she helped out in the teashop he owned. She missed her sister, but was close to her brother and his wife and doted on their children. She had been happy and was in good health. When Mr. Carson read the last part of the letter, however, his palms began to sweat. It was a possibility he had considered before, but now that it was written out in black and white, he found himself rather nervous.

_...Will you pay me a visit, Charlie? It's been so long and I should so love to see you and talk to you. Do you think you could get away to come to Clitheroe? It is not so very far from Downton. Please write again and we can arrange a day and time. I'm sure you must be very busy, but don't you think the lord at Downton will allow you a little time off to visit an old friend, one you haven't seen in so long?_

_I look forward to your next letter._

_Most sincerely,_

_Alice Neal_

To be continued…

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	6. To Lancashire

Mrs. Hughes could barely contain her curiosity. Mr. Carson was taking time off the next day, which was unusual enough in itself, but he was also behaving strangely again. It wasn't exactly the way he'd acted when he was dealing with Mr. Grigg's appearance in Downton, but he seemed to be on pins and needles and was, without a doubt, avoiding her. Most likely he was afraid she would want to know what was the matter and was aware that she usually found him out, one way or the other, when he was out of sorts. She decided to let him have some privacy this time, at least for now. Mrs. Hughes was sure that his odd mood had something to do with his planned afternoon and evening off. She would leave him in peace until she saw how he behaved after he returned.

Mr. Carson wondered if Mrs. Hughes was losing her touch. He was trying to escape her notice, but she didn't make any effort to find him. When she did see him during the course of the day, she greeted him and spoke in a friendly manner about work and other superficial topics. Not one single time did she ask him what was the matter or try to find out what his plans for his time off were. At every meal she engaged him in the sort of chat they shared when nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Details of some dinner or other, what Thomas and Miss O'Brien might be up to, what time the chauffeur needed to be sent to the station with produce for Lady Rosamund. Mr. Carson knew better than to give up on her immediately, however. The real test would come when he returned. He hoped he could behave normally. Then there would be nothing for her to ask about.

#####

The train pulled into the station in Clitheroe and Mr. Carson exited the third class compartment. He was glad it wasn't raining; not only had he forgotten his umbrella, but he was going to have to ask around a bit to find his destination. His stomach was in knots and he was still questioning himself about the wisdom of agreeing to meet Alice again after all that had happened and all the time that had passed. He asked the station master for directions to George Neal's teashop, where he would be meeting Alice, and found out that it was relatively nearby. His time on the stage, as well as his subsequent years in service, had taught him how to appear calm and collected when in fact he was quite agitated, so he pasted on a smile and approached his destination with apparent confidence. He found the teashop easily and pushed open the door. The place was almost deserted and he occupied himself with removing his gloves and hat and unbuttoning his coat. Seemingly out of nowhere, a woman approached him.

"Can I take your coat, Charlie?" a soft voice asked.

Mr. Carson looked up and saw her. He couldn't speak immediately, so he nodded and allowed her to take his coat, Once she had hung it on a rack near the door, they finally stood face to face.

"Hello, Alice." The knot in his stomach eased a bit and he smiled, a real smile this time.

Alice smiled sweetly. "Hello, Charlie." She held out her hand and he shook it. "There's a table over by the window for us."

Mr. Carson followed her to the table and they sat down. He wasn't completely comfortable, but he was less nervous now that he was here. Neither of them spoke right away, each taking in the appearance of the other. When Mr. Carson looked at Alice's face, he felt as though they had hardly been apart. Decades had passed, but time had been kind to her. She still had the same delicate beauty that she had when they first met and he felt himself falling quite willingly back under her spell. Her golden curls were pulled back into a modest hairstyle, her cheeks were rosy, and her gray eyes were just as striking as ever to Mr. Carson. He had always been quite taken with her eyes. So many girls had blue eyes or brown eyes, and even hazel eyes were more commonplace to him than Alice's gray eyes.

"Did you have a good journey, Charlie?" she asked, drawing Mr. Carson back into the present moment.

"I did," he replied. "Thank you." He tried to think of something to say, but he struggled to find the appropriate words. _What does a man say to the woman who broke his heart thirty years ago?_

"Good. I'm so glad you've come."

"So am I," he told her. And it was true. She was older, but still as sweet and pretty as ever, and Mr. Carson felt he had made the right decision in coming to see Alice.

A waitress brought them some tea and cake and Alice poured. Mr. Carson silently watched the work of her delicate hands, but once she had filled his cup, she paused. He wondered what she was waiting for until she spoke. "Do you like milk or sugar in your tea? Or both?"

He stuttered out his preference, embarrassed by his inattention. For just a moment he had been transported back to Downton Abbey, where he watched another pair of hands pour him a cup of tea and fix it just the way he liked it, without his saying a word. Her hands were not as delicate as Alice's, but they were still very fine hands - strong and capable, trained for hard work from an early age. He couldn't expect Alice to remember how he liked his tea after so many years apart. The fact that _he_ remembered how Alice took _her_ tea after all those years was probably pure luck.

Mr. Carson sipped his tea and tried again to make conversation. "Do you like it in Clitheroe?" he asked her. "It seems a pleasant little town."

"Oh, yes," she answered. "I'm very fond of it, though it's nothing to London, of course. We saw a lot of life in the city back then, didn't we?"

"Yes, I suppose we did," he mused. "There's always something new to see in London. I'm lucky enough to spend several months of every year there with the Crawley family."

Alice gasped in excitement. "Every year? You must go to the theatre very often!"

"No, not really," Mr. Carson told her. "Most of the time I haven't time to go out on my own, but when I do I prefer the museums and historical sites."

Alice's brows drew together. "But don't you like to be reminded of the excitement of the applause and the music and dancing?" she wanted to know.

Mr. Carson paused, hesitant to speak of a painful subject, but unwilling to lie. "I have some rather unpleasant memories associated with the theatre, and I've found it best not to bring them all up again."

Alice looked into her cup. "I suppose you mean what happened with the other Charlie," she said softly.

"Yes." He tried to speak gently. "That's just what I mean."

"I'm dreadfully sorry, Charlie. He wasn't what I thought he was." Mr. Carson met Alice's eyes across the table and tried to gauge her truthfulness. He could not be quite sure of her; there was no real malice in her, but there might be some insincerity that he hadn't detected before. Was she really sorry for what she had put him through or did she simply believe that an apology was what he expected of her? And was it telling that her apology included an excuse - that her leaving him was Grigg's fault for not being what she expected? Mr. Carson felt uncertain, but he was not ready to give up on her. That had happened a long time ago and he believed they still might leave it all behind them and start again. He decided to put aside the unpleasant topic and speak of something else.

"I've brought you a gift," he told her.

Her eyes lit up. "For me? Oh, you didn't have to do that."

He smiled. "I wanted to. And it's nothing very special." Mr. Carson pulled a small book out of his pocket and laid it on the table in front of Alice.

She picked it up and looked at the illustrated cover. "_Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_," she read.

"I remember telling you some of the stories from that book, but I never could get them quite right when I told them from memory," he explained. "I thought you might enjoy it."

"I'm sure I will," Alice replied before setting the book aside. "Do tell me, Charlie, if you've met with anyone from our old theatre days. I should love to know how our old friends are getting on."

"I'm afraid I can't satisfy you there. I haven't kept in touch with any of them."

"I suppose you're very busy with your work," she conjectured.

"Yes, quite busy." Mr. Carson chose not to remind her what he had just said about unpleasant memories of the theatre.

"I do wish sometimes that I could go back now, to sing and dance in front of an audience," Alice remarked. "But that could never be. I'm an old woman now."

"An old woman? Certainly not!" Mr. Carson spoke the truth, but he had a sneaking suspicion that he had answered her just as she meant for him to answer. She didn't _really_ consider herself an old woman; she was only trying to draw a compliment out of him. Mr. Carson began to feel uncomfortable again. He was still charmed by the woman seated across from him, but he was beginning to see things that he had never noticed before. Had she changed? Had he? Or had he simply been carried away by his admiration of a pretty face and delicate figure?

Alice giggled and fluttered her eyelashes. "Oh, Charlie, you're such a charmer. But my life is here now, serving tea in Clitheroe." She sighed. "I never did meet a man who wanted to marry me and take me away from all this."

Mr. Carson was speechless. How could she speak of marriage so flippantly? She must know how much he had wanted to marry her. However, now he wasn't sure she fully understood how much she had hurt him. He had not yet officially proposed when Alice abandoned him for Grigg, but they had talked about their future in fairly specific terms. Where they might live, what they might do, how they both wished for children. Mr. Carson had loved her very much. He had wanted to marry her and he thought she felt the same. Now he was beginning to doubt that he had understood her properly. He looked around the room, trying to decide on his next move. He had given her the gift he'd brought and they'd talked. It seemed he could safely leave without being rude.

"It's been lovely to see you again, Alice," he told her, rising from his seat. "But I'm afraid I must be going."

"So soon?" Alice looked disappointed. "If you must, you must, but will you come to see me again?"

"It will be hard for me to get away again anytime soon."

She picked up the book and stood. "Perhaps we can talk about the book the next time you come."

Mr. Carson smiled, gratified that she seemed interested in his gift. "Yes, that would be nice. I'll write again to set another time for us to meet."

Alice smiled. "I look forward to hearing from you."

"Your brother's teashop is quite charming. I think we should meet here again, if that is agreeable to you."

She nodded. "Yes, of course. Now let me get your coat."

Alice helped him into his coat and handed him his hat and gloves. Mr. Carson held out his hand and she took it. "Until next time," he murmured and they parted at the door.

Mr. Carson put his hat and gloves back on as he made his way back to the station. He hadn't intended on returning home quite so early, but he had a lot to think about. He was glad he had a compartment all to himself on the train back to Downton; he wasn't in humor to make small talk with strangers. He didn't want to be disappointed in Alice, but he had difficulty avoiding it at first. However, as the trees and hills passed his window, Mr. Carson was able to make peace with himself on the subject. He had been dreadfully nervous about the meeting with Alice and it would be perfectly natural for her to have felt equally nervous. In an agitated state, perhaps she was not at her best. He was willing to meet with her again; he especially looked forward to hearing what she might have to say about _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_. Mr. Carson enjoyed reading a variety of novels and discussing them. He knew there was a copy of that book in the library at Downton Abbey. He would be certain to borrow it and read it again before he returned to Clitheroe. Now that they had met once, he was hopeful that both he and Alice would be more comfortable at their second meeting. By the time he got off the train in Downton, he was once more looking forward to seeing Alice again, whenever he could next get away from the house for an afternoon. Mr. Carson felt like his heart was reawakening, shaking off the dust of so many years' disuse, and letting him freely admire a lovely woman. It was a marvelous feeling.

#####

Mr. Carson knocked on the open door and Mrs. Hughes looked up from her desk.

She smiled and rose to greet him. Mr. Carson felt a warmth spreading through his chest and some of the tension in his shoulders dissipated. He was home now, and all would be well.

"I'm just back, Mrs. Hughes, and I'm going up to change," he told her.

"We weren't expecting you back so early."

"Yes, well, my errand didn't take as long as I thought it would," Mr. Carson replied.

"You'd better hurry then," she urged him. "It's almost time for upstairs dinner."

"Yes, you're right. I'll see you later, Mrs. Hughes." He hurried up the stairs to don his white tie and tails, returning downstairs just in time to supervise dinner. Everything went exactly as it should, which usually was just what he wanted, but tonight it gave him pause. This really _was_ his home, and if he married Alice, he would have to leave. He wondered if it would be possible to stay in the village, or perhaps move just to Ripon or Thirsk. He could probably find a job in a shop or a restaurant. It would not be quite the same, but if he married Alice, or anyone else for that matter, he could not stay at Downton Abbey.

Mrs. Hughes noticed his abstraction as they sat drinking wine that evening and correctly guessed that it was related to this afternoon's errand. He was being very mysterious about where he had gone and why, but whatever it was, it had him deep in thought.

"Are you all right, then?" she asked him. "Has your errand worn you out? I won't keep you if you need to turn in early."

Mr. Carson shook his head, trying to clear it. "I am a little tired, but I'll finish my wine."

Mrs. Hughes took a sip and watched him for a few moments. "Are you sure nothing is wrong?"

He finally looked at her. "No, nothing is wrong. I'm just distracted."

She tried not to laugh. "Well, I worked that much out myself, Mr. Carson."

Blue. Her eyes were blue. He'd always thought blue eyes so common, but somehow hers weren't. It wasn't that their color was so extraordinary. It was the feeling he could see in them. When she teased him, her eyes smiled as well as her mouth. When she caught a maid out of line, her eyes were full of fire. And now, as she tried to draw him out and make him talk, he could see, as he always did, that beyond her natural curiosity was a sincere concern for his wellbeing. They were honest eyes, and they comforted him more than he had realized. Even when he evaded her attempts to find out what was bothering him, he knew that she cared, and that lightened his burdens. Unbidden, an image arose in his mind of a pair of gray eyes that had not comforted him, but confused him with a hint of guile that he had not seen when he had known her as a younger man. The two pair of eyes, and the women they belonged to, could not have been more different.

Mr. Carson finished his wine and went to bed with barely a word to Mrs. Hughes. She shook her head as she watched him tread heavily down the corridor and up the stairs. Something wasn't quite right. She wasn't ready to swear that something was truly _wrong_, but Mr. Carson's mind was disturbed and uncertain. She hoped he would come out of it soon. She turned out the rest of the lights and went upstairs to bed.

_To be continued…_

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	7. A Letter from the Past

"A letter for you, Mrs. Hughes." Mr. Carson stepped into her sitting room and handed her the letter before disappearing down the corridor. Mrs. Hughes looked at the handwriting on the envelope. It looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. She opened it and her eyes hurried to the bottom of the page. _Joe Burns._ No wonder she hadn't known his writing immediately. They had only exchanged a few letters in all the time they'd known each other. She went back to the beginning and started to read. It wasn't a long letter, but it gave her a lot to think about. Joe wanted to see her again. His wife had died three years ago. He was still farming. Mrs. Hughes could read between the lines well enough. There was only one reason a man his age would court a respectable woman; she knew what he would ask of her. When she had turned him down all those years ago, she'd been sure she wanted to stay in service. She could see her own potential to go far in that life, and she couldn't see herself as a farmer's wife. Now she had realized that potential; as housekeeper of a large country house she had reached the top of her profession at a relatively young age and she was proud of what she had achieved. Still, she did think, from time to time, about what it might have been like if she'd accepted Joe. What kind of a farmer's wife would she have made? Would she have been happy? Joe was a good and kind man, and she knew he would have taken care of her. She might even have come to love him. There was no telling whether one life was better than another, but she couldn't help wondering.

Mrs. Hughes set aside the letter and resolved to answer it later. Right now she was busy with other things. Her ledgers needed her attention, but she was also still concerned about Mr. Carson. He had not been himself since his mysterious afternoon off and her gentle wheedling had brought nothing to light. She supposed she ought to leave him in peace. Why shouldn't he be allowed some secrets? Mostly she was just concerned that he might be unhappy and wondered if she could help. Still, he had a right to keep anything to himself that he preferred not to discuss with her. She must try to curb her curiosity and move on. She and Mr. Carson had enough in common that there was rarely any dearth of topics to discuss. Perhaps she should go to the library and check the ledger to see what he had been reading recently. Their discussions of literature were always interesting and often lively. Mrs. Hughes nodded to herself. Yes, that was what she would do. If she couldn't find out what had perturbed him, she would try to distract him.

#####

Mrs. Hughes took the glass of wine that Mr. Carson handed her and sipped it, watching him carefully. He still wore that look of a man whose mind was half in the present moment and half elsewhere. She had not had time to check the library ledger, but she would still try to distract him.

"I had a letter today from an old friend, Mr. Carson."

"Oh?"

"Yes, it's been years since we last met or even exchanged letters. A little while ago you asked me if it was worthwhile to contact a friend from whom you had parted badly and this isn't quite the same, but there are some similarities between the situations."

Mr. Carson was now, for the first time in weeks, paying complete attention to what Mrs. Hughes was saying. "How so?"

"I wouldn't say we parted badly, but the circumstances under which we parted made me a little surprised that my friend should seek me out again."

He nodded. "So, will you see your friend again?" he wanted to know.

"I think so," she answered. "I'd like to see how my friend is getting on. It's been so long."

"You might find your friend very changed," Mr. Carson murmured.

Mrs. Hughes looked at him carefully. "Yes, I suppose I might."

"I hope it goes well, in any case," he told her.

She smiled and was about to reply when she noticed a book on the table by her chair. Perhaps she wouldn't have to go to the library after all. She set down her glass of wine and picked up the book. "_Alice's Adventures in Wonderland,_ Mr. Carson? You surprise me!"

His brows drew together. "I don't see why."

"I'd have thought this a little too childish for you," she teased.

Mr. Carson shook his head. "There are some books that can be enjoyed by both children and adults, Mrs. Hughes."

"Don't mind my needling, Mr. Carson," she replied with a smile. "I agree with you and I like _Alice_. I haven't read it in a while, but it's an old favorite of mine."

"Is it?" he asked.

"Oh yes." She leafed through the volume. "I like the Cheshire cat especially."

"Why is that?" Mr. Carson wondered.

"I'm not sure, exactly," Mrs. Hughes answered. "I like cats, and this one seems to come out on top wherever he goes. The pepper doesn't make him sneeze and the Queen of Hearts isn't able to execute him."

He chuckled. "Very true. I rather like the mad tea party, myself. Once in a while tea in the library upstairs descends into chaos and riddles and I'm reminded of _Alice_."

"Riddles from the dowager, I take it?" Mrs. Hughes guessed.

"Generally. But the chaos can come from any side." They both laughed.

"I may have to borrow this from the library after you're finished with it, Mr. Carson. I'd forgotten what a funny, odd little story it is."

Mr. Carson sighed. "Well, I think it's time I was getting to bed."

Mrs. Hughes set the book down. "High time for me as well."

They rose from their chairs and walked down the corridor together. Mrs. Hughes was glad she'd been able to draw Mr. Carson into conversation about Alice's adventures. He'd laughed more than once, and even now he wore a slight smile. She hoped he would be himself again soon.

_To be continued…_

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	8. Alice, Revisited

This time when he got off of the train in Clitheroe, Mr. Carson didn't need help finding the teashop. He wasn't quite as nervous as he was on his first visit, but neither was he entirely calm. He had talked himself out of any criticism of Alice and he looked forward to speaking to her again. They had the book to discuss, and he hoped they might talk on subjects not related to their time on the stage. When they had known each other in their younger days, they had talked of other things - their families and friends, jokes they had heard, dreams for the future. It would be different now, but Mr. Carson was sure they could come up with plenty to talk about between themselves.

Alice met him at the door once again and helped him off with his coat and hat. They went to the same table by the window and a waiter brought them tea. She poured once again, and just as before, she had to pause and ask him how he took his tea. Mr. Carson found himself surprisingly irritated by the fact that she did not remember, and he didn't like it. It seemed a petty thing to be angry about. Why did it matter so much to him? He forced himself to smile as he answered the question again and took the cup of tea from her.

"I'm so glad to see you, Charlie," Alice was telling him. "Your last visit brought everything back to me and I had such a nice daydream about the old days."

Mr. Carson cleared his throat. "Oh, well..."

"But do tell me how your journey was?"

He relaxed. "I couldn't have asked for a better one. The weather was fine when I left Yorkshire and fine when I arrived here."

"Yes, it has been fine out for several days in Clitheroe."

"I wonder what you thought about _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_. Did you like it?"

Alice looked sheepish. "I'm so sorry, Charlie. I haven't read it yet. I'm sure I'll love it when I do."

Mr. Carson was disappointed in her apparent lack of interest in his gift. It had been her suggestion that they meet again to discuss the book, but she hadn't taken the trouble to read it. All of the little doubts that had arisen when he met with her the first time crept back into his mind. "Well, perhaps you'd like to talk about London. When I was there last summer I visited an art gallery that I think you would have liked."

"Oh, but I won't be in London anytime soon. It will only make me feel envious if you tell me about it."

Mr. Carson chuckled. "Well, that's fair enough. Tell me about your nieces and nephews, then. You wrote that you're quite fond of them."

"Oh yes, I love them all, but what does one say about children?" Alice gave him a pleading look that he knew well. Thirty years ago he would have given her whatever she asked for when she turned her lovely gray eyes in his direction like that. "I just thought that we could talk about the old days again," she suggested. "I know you have some unhappy memories, but surely not all of it was unpleasant."

"Well, no, but-"

"Do you remember Danny Martin, Charlie?"

"I think so. I didn't know him well, but-"

"He had that double act with a girl named May. _She_ was quite vain, but Danny had the most wonderful voice of anyone I ever heard," she gushed. "Except you, of course."

"That's right, Danny and May."

"Well, I had a letter from Danny last week and we talked of all our old friends. I thought perhaps the three of us could meet and tell our stories."

"Do you think you and Danny will really be interested in hearing the stories a butler has to tell?" Mr. Carson didn't have much hope that her answer to his half-joking question would please him.

Alice giggled merrily. "Oh, Charlie, you are so droll! Of course we don't want to hear about the life of a gloomy old butler. No, you must have some amusing stories about the Cheerful Charlies and some of the other actors, and all of the jokes we used to tell."

Mr. Carson couldn't close his eyes any longer to the truth. Alice hadn't changed at all in the time they'd been apart. She was still sweet and pretty, but she preferred to live in the past. He, on the other hand, had moved on from a time that he didn't like to remember. Not every memory was unpleasant, but he had a new life now that had value to him, but that Alice saw as a source of amusement. And those memories that were unpleasant to him she preferred to sweep under the rug, though she herself was the cause of a good deal of the pain he suffered back then.

"Perhaps you and Danny ought to get together to talk over old times, then," Mr. Carson suggested. "I'm afraid I'll be too busy."

Alice's eyes widened. "Oh, Charlie, I've hurt your feelings," she said softly. "I am sorry."

"No, you haven't hurt my feelings," he reassured her. "But if what you really want is to spend time reminiscing over those old times, you should ask Danny to visit, not me."

"But Charlie," she protested, tears springing to her eyes. "I thought we might… take up again."

Mr. Carson was uneasy with her tears, but he would not agree to what she suggested just to make her stop crying. He tried to be gentle; he had loved her once, and he did not like causing her pain. "Alice, I'm glad we could make peace after we parted badly back then," he said, taking one of her hands in his. "It's been lovely to know you."

"But you won't stay. And you won't come back." Her tears had dried. She seemed to understand.

"I'm afraid not," Mr. Carson murmured. "But I wish you the best, Alice. Truly."

"If you change your mind, you'll write again, won't you, Charlie?"

He squeezed her hand once and then released it. He looked directly into her lovely gray eyes for the last time. "I won't change my mind."

"I see," she replied.

"I'll get my hat and coat. Goodbye." Mr. Carson got his things and left the teashop without turning back.

#####

Mr. Carson was glad of the train ride back, for although he knew he had done the right thing, there was still much to think about and go over in his mind. Now that several months had passed since the humiliating incident, he could think more calmly of Grigg's appearance in Downton. If they had not met again, Mr. Carson would not have had this chance to make peace with Alice and to cease regretting her loss. After this second meeting, it was clear that they would not make each other happy. Mr. Carson had changed a great deal and Alice had hardly changed at all. He wondered if she lived that way to lessen her own regrets. If she viewed the past with such nostalgia, even though things hadn't always gone her way and she had hurt people, it was easier for her to live with all that had happened. He could not believe that she was glad to have hurt him, but he _could_ believe that she would avoid taking responsibility for her actions.

Mr. Carson's relief upon leaving Clitheroe manifested itself physically, as well as mentally. He had not realized how anxious and apprehensive he had been for the past several weeks until he wasn't anymore; his body felt so relaxed that he slumped in his seat. He looked forward to being back home at Downton. It would be the wrong time of day when he returned, so he would have to wait until tomorrow, but what he wanted most as the train took him back to Yorkshire was a cup of tea poured by the hands of a woman who would prepare it just the way he liked it without speaking a word. Mr. Carson wondered if perhaps he ought to be troubled by how often images of the hands or the eyes of Elsie Hughes had flashed through his mind when he was in the presence of Alice Neal, but he couldn't be. Seeing Alice again had warmed his dusty, cobwebbed heart, but she did not take up residence there. He wasn't sure if Mrs. Hughes had, either, but he did know that she was more dear to him than he had previously known. When the two women stood side-by-side in his mind - women who had played significant roles in his life, in their different ways - one of them seemed superior in every way. The rosy, golden beauty of Alice Neal that had once so intoxicated him faded almost to nothing beside the warmth, intelligence, and honesty of Elsie Hughes. Her beauty was not so easily described, but to know that he would meet with her again in a few hours' time was the greatest imaginable comfort to him. Perhaps she did not yet hold his heart, but in all probability she would before long.

_To be continued…_

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	9. A Question

"I'm just off, Mr. Carson." Mrs. Hughes was standing in the pantry doorway.

"According to the wine book, we should still have six dozen of this, but I'm beggared if I can find much more than four."

"Look again, before you jump to any nasty conclusions."

Mr. Carson looked up. "It's a long time since you last took a night off."

"You don't think I ought to stay, do you?" she asked, concerned.

"Certainly not. Be off with you."

"And Anna's in bed with a cold. So I'm afraid it's all down to you."

"Go." Mr. Carson shooed her out and she made her way quickly to the back door and was on her way. He laid down his pen once he heard the door shut behind her. He wondered where she might be going. Certainly not farther than into the village, considering what time it was. Was she meeting that friend she mentioned, the one who had written a few weeks before? Mr. Carson couldn't help wondering if her friend was a man or a woman; she had never specified. She had looked very nice just now. He wasn't sure if she was wearing anything new, but she had looked very pretty as she slipped on her gloves and told him not to jump to conclusions.

#####

Mrs. Hughes began her walk back to the Abbey. She could hear the others a little way behind her on the road, but she did not slow to join them. She had known the likely purpose of Joe's visit, but now that he had proposed she had to think about it in more than just vague terms. She had a choice before her and it was important that she make the right one, because such a choice wouldn't come around again. She could accept him and leave behind her life in service to be a farmer's wife or she could stay at Downton Abbey, a spinster for life. Both options appealed to her in different ways, but at her age she was sure she would never again receive an offer of marriage. If she wanted companionship in old age, this was her last chance. She was rarely lonely at Downton, but she had no connection to anyone there that would hold for life. If Mr. Carson, her closest friend there, chose to take a position elsewhere, he would go, and she could have nothing to say about it, except to wish him well and perhaps correspond with him. The younger staff, some of whom she was very fond of, would marry or move on to other jobs. They might write her a letter from time to time, but none of them were bound to the place. Still, Mrs. Hughes took pride in her work and in the fact that she had risen to her position entirely based on her own merit and hard work. She was not defined by whose wife or whose daughter she was.

When Mrs. Hughes entered the house, Mr. Bates and Miss O'Brien were in the servants' hall. The valet came out to ask her if she'd had a pleasant evening. She wished him and Miss O'Brien a good night. She'd glanced into Mr. Carson's pantry as she passed, but she didn't see him, so she made her way upstairs to get ready for bed.

Mr. Carson was in his pantry, however. He had been just out of sight, crouched down in the corner trying to find something he'd dropped. He heard her footsteps in the corridor and, shortly after she had gone up, he heard the noise of the others in the corridor outside his door. He had found his pencil and laid it on his desk.

"I was right when I said she was looking sparkly-eyed," Thomas gloated.

Mr. Carson emerged from his pantry. "I _beg_ your pardon, Thomas."

Thomas straightened up and kept silent.

The butler stepped back into his office, but he couldn't help listening to the rest of the conversation.

"He can disapprove all he likes," Thomas remarked. "Mrs. Hughes has got a fancy man."

"Him? A fancy man?" Daisy asked doubtfully.

"Don't be so nasty, Daisy," Mr. Bates reproved her. "It doesn't suit you."

"I reckon there's a job vacancy coming up." Thomas continued. "Miss O'Brien, d'you fancy a promotion?"

"Very droll," Miss O'Brien scoffed. "If she's got a boyfriend, I'm a giraffe."

The group outside his pantry dispersed and Mr. Carson was left alone with his thoughts. So she _had_ been meeting a man. He wondered if there was any way to ask her about it. He worried that there might be something serious going on between Mrs. Hughes and this friend of hers. She had mentioned that she was a little surprised that he had sought her out after the way they had parted. Could he have been a former suitor? Was there some chance that he hoped to rekindle an old romance? Or was his interest more practical? The man might simply be in need of a wife. Mr. Carson could admit to himself now that he was jealous. This man who might be courting Mrs. Hughes was free to declare himself, whether he was in search of a wife, any wife, or if he really loved her. Mr. Carson couldn't decide if he was more angry or glad that Alice had shaken the cobwebs from his heart, just so he could realize that he loved another. It was certainly inconvenient, but he couldn't be sorry. He might not be able to marry Mrs. Hughes, or ever tell her he loved her, but he had already spent years by her side. If she turned this fellow down, they would likely have many more years together. Mr. Carson wanted to know just what had happened that evening, but he could not ask her. He had no right to know any more about her private life than she chose to tell him. If Mrs. Hughes seemed out of sorts or upset in some way, he might try to find out what was the matter, just as she always did with him. Otherwise, he must be content with hoping she had no plans to leave Downton. He didn't know how he would do without her.

#####

Upstairs in her attic bedroom, Mrs. Hughes dressed for bed by habit; her mind was occupied with other things. Joe had not pressed her for an immediate answer, for which she was grateful. It would take some time for her to make her choice. She climbed into bed, but she didn't fall asleep immediately. She imagined accepting Joe and allowed her mind to construct a possible future. She would serve out a month at Downton Abbey while Joe went back to his farm and prepared for her arrival. The farewells would be difficult. Mrs. Hughes had been at Downton for over ten years now and she would miss many of her colleagues. Many of the younger staff were almost like children to her. Even Mrs. Patmore was not at her throat _all_ the time and, oddly enough, she could see herself occasionally missing their arguments. Mrs. Hughes knew, however, that she would miss Mr. Carson more than any of them. He had been her friend since the first day she walked the galleries with keys jingling at her hip. They had supported one another, enjoyed discussions or debates about literature or any number of other topics, and they had sometimes been adversaries, though always coming back into agreement when a situation called for them to display a united front. Within a month or two of the day she became Mrs. Hughes, rather than Elsie, she had not doubted Mr. Carson's respect and professional regard for her. Their friendship had developed further over the years into a close one and, though their life together was still punctuated by sometimes fierce disagreements, they were in harmony more often than not. Mrs. Hughes began to fear she was becoming maudlin in her extended thoughts of how much she would miss Mr. Carson, so she forced herself to move on. She would say her farewells, marry Joe, and move into his home and his life. She had seen his farm a few times and had a vague memory of how the house looked. She saw herself in the kitchen, no longer dressed in black, learning what her husband liked and learning her new life and work as a farmer's wife. Joe would smile at her and occasionally bring her a little bag of sweets or some other trifle. Their home would be comfortable, even cozy, though the work would always be hard. Her sister Molly would visit, husband and children in tow, and they would sit around the kitchen table telling stories well into the night. Mrs. Hughes's traitorous mind showed her images of herself telling stories of her time at Downton Abbey - primarily stories of the impressive Mr. Carson. She had certainly written enough about him in her letters to her sister. Would Molly tease her? Would Joe be jealous? She imagined them all laughing together, after which everyone would retire to bed and Mrs. Hughes would clean the kitchen, remembering her life at Downton Abbey, so different from life on a farm, and missing it. She would miss it, of course, but how much? Would she be an unhappy farmer's wife, pining for a man she could never have? _Certainly not,_ she told herself. She did not pine, for Mr. Carson or anyone else. Her mind returned the present, however, and she had to ask herself just how high her regard for him was. If she really scrutinized her own vague thoughts of the future, the only thing clear was that Mr. Carson would always be a part of her life. What exactly that meant, she could not be sure.

Mrs. Hughes tried to go to sleep. She would re-examine these confusing thoughts tomorrow, when the light of day would drive away the shadowy uncertainties that now had her feeling so perturbed. She would be better able to see what the truth was when she was not so tired, and when Joe's proposal had had time to settle in her mind. She tossed and turned for a little while, but she was asleep by midnight.

#####

The next morning Mrs. Hughes felt more tranquil, but her feelings of uncertainty had not abated. She sat down to breakfast beside Mr. Carson as usual, and tried to steal a few glances at him when he wasn't looking. Could she really be in love with him? Had friendship turned into something more, so slowly that she hadn't noticed it happening?

"Are you quite all right, Mrs. Hughes?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm quite well," she replied. "Just a bit preoccupied."

His eyebrows drew together in concern. "I hope there's nothing wrong."

She looked into his eyes and smiled, hoping to reassure him. "Nothing at all. But I suppose we're all allowed our moments of distraction, aren't we, Mr. Carson?" she teased, thinking of his own recent bouts of absentmindedness.

He smiled in return. "Yes, we most certainly are."

His smile, which did not often make an appearance at the breakfast table, rendered Mrs. Hughes a little breathless. The answers to her puzzling and speculation were becoming clear.

_To be continued…_

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	10. Sharing Stories

Mr. Carson could not contain his agitation, so he tried to put it to good use. Thomas and William endured a telling-off right after Mrs. Hughes left the house, but after that he set his mind to any physical task he could find. He made his way briskly through the ground floor rooms, checking that even the tiniest details were in order. When he had finished that, he went upstairs and checked all the bedrooms. It was completely unnecessary, as Mrs. Hughes had done it earlier, but he needed to keep moving. That task completed, Mr. Carson made his way downstairs. The door to Mrs. Hughes's sitting room was closed. She had returned. He went to his pantry to find William busily polishing the silver. He sent the footman off on some other errand, deciding to finish the job himself. His nervous energy, channeled into the job at hand, made short work of every piece. He stepped out into the corridor again. Her door was still closed. Mr. Carson could wait no longer. He knocked on the door, opened it, and said the first thing that came to his mind.

"I've put out the Rundell candlesticks for dinner tonight." He caught sight of her pensive expression and immediately regretted interrupting. "Oh, I'm sorry," he apologized. "I'll come back later."

"No. Stay, please," Mrs. Hughes urged him. "I've got something I'd like to talk about, if you've a minute." She motioned for him to take the seat nearest the door and she took the chair on the other side of the table.

Mr. Carson closed the door and sat down to listen. He dreaded what she might say next, but he could do nothing but sit and hear what she had to tell him. Just the other night he had wished he could ask her about it. Now she was telling him and he felt ill.

"Before I first came here as head housemaid I was walking out with a farmer. When I told him I'd taken a job at Downton, he asked me to marry him. I was a farmer's daughter from Argyll, so I knew the life. He was very nice. But then I came here and I did well and I didn't want to give it up. So I told him no and he married someone else. She died three years ago and last month he wrote asking to see me again. And I agreed. Because all this time I've wondered…" She was silent, looking into the middle distance. She bit her lip, an idiosyncrasy that Mr. Carson had recently come to love.

"Go on," he encouraged her, fearing her next words, but unable to tolerate living any longer in suspense.

"I met him the other night," she continued. "We had dinner at the Grantham Arms and after, he took me to the fair."

"And he was horrible and fat and red-faced and you couldn't think what you ever saw in him." Mr. Carson had little hope that this was true. If the man was so terrible, her choice wouldn't have been this difficult.

Mrs. Hughes smiled wistfully. "He was _still _a nice man. He _is_ still a nice man. Well, he _was_ a bit red-faced, and his suit was a little tight, but none of that matters. In the real ways, he hadn't changed."

"And he proposed again and you accepted?" Mr. Carson guessed.

"In many ways I _wanted_ to accept. But I'm not that farm girl anymore." Mrs. Hughes looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "I was flattered, of course… but I've changed, Mr. Carson."

He started to breathe again. Had he understood her correctly? "Life's altered you, as it's altered me. But what would be the point of living if we didn't let life change us?" She nodded and looked away from him, a smile crossing her lips for a second or two. "You...won't be leaving then?"

There was a brisk knock at the door and Anna peeked in, drawing Mrs. Hughes's attention. "You'd better come. Mrs. Patmore's on the rampage. She wants the key to the store cupboard, and you know how angry she gets that she hasn't got one of her own."

The housekeeper was on her feet immediately, the wistfully uncertain expression gone from her face. "Nor will she have! Not while I'm housekeeper here." She moved quickly to the door, but paused briefly and turned to Mr. Carson. "Leaving?" she asked, a smile quirking her lips. "When would I ever find the time?"

Mr. Carson smiled back and followed Mrs. Hughes from the room, leaving her to do battle with Mrs. Patmore, while he went up to his room to change into his white tie and tails. It was a little early, but he wanted to be left alone for a few minutes. He was feeling the same sort of relief now that he had felt as he left Alice behind for the last time, but he didn't have the luxury of a train ride in an empty compartment to compose himself. A few extra minutes in his room would have to suffice.

#####

Mr. Carson served dinner with an extra spring in his step. He hoped he might be able to have a glass of something with Mrs. Hughes later. If she was still in the servery between courses, he'd ask her then. Now he was obliged to serve wine and listen to the family's discussion of Lady Sybil's new frock. Mr. Carson had been a bit shocked by it himself, when he first saw the girl arrive in the drawing room where the family waited. Now everyone at the table seemed to have a different opinion on the topic. Lord and Lady Grantham were agreeing never again to send Lady Sybil to a dress fitting unaccompanied, although the earl was much more concerned about the whole affair than his wife. The dowager showed her disapproval with some snappy remarks. Lady Edith was indifferent, but Lady Mary admired her youngest sister's daring choice. Mrs. Crawley and Mr. Matthew naturally approved entirely although, to their credit, once they had expressed their support, they did not involve themselves in any disagreement between the other members of the family. After his initial shock had dissipated, Mr. Carson still did not approve, but he recovered his equilibrium much more quickly than his master, whose consternation lasted through the entire meal. Lady Sybil herself was by no means discouraged by any of this. She had expected it, really; the positive responses from her eldest sister and her cousins were a pleasant surprise.

Mrs. Hughes was in the servery the next time Mr. Carson entered, busy with linens and trying to stay out of everyone's way. He got what he needed for the dessert course and approached her.

"I've heard that Lady Sybil's scandalized some of the family with her new frock," Mrs. Hughes whispered, before he could invite her to share some wine with him later.

"She certainly has. His lordship's none too pleased, though some of the others approve her choice."

"I'm quite curious to see it, Mr. Carson," she admitted. "I'm going to see if I can catch a glimpse of Lady Sybil when the ladies leave the dining room."

Mr. Carson looked at her in astonishment. "Are you?"

"Why not?" she questioned him. "Everyone else gets to see it. Why shouldn't I?"

"I'm surprised at you, Mrs. Hughes," he told her. "I've never thought of you as someone inclined to gossip."

Mrs. Hughes rolled her eyes. "All I want is to catch a glimpse of the dress that has everyone in an uproar. That's hardly gossip. You needn't worry that I'll get in anyone's way. You know I'm very good at being invisible when it's needed."

"I don't suppose I can stop you," Mr. Carson grumbled.

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Carson, she replied, a twinkle in her eye.

The footmen were starting to move into the dining room and Mr. Carson realized that he hadn't extended his planned invitation to Mrs. Hughes. He was glad she would be staying upstairs later than usual. He could ask her after dinner.

#####

At last the servants had eaten their dinner and gone to bed, leaving Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes to their wine.

"How did you like Lady Sybil's frock?" he asked her.

"I could see what the commotion was about, but I think it's beautiful and perfectly modest," she answered. "It suits her."

"I thought you would like it. I'm not sure I agree about the modesty."

"She barely showed any ankle and the top was just like any other frock in her or her sisters' wardrobes," Mrs. Hughes argued.

"But to wear pantaloons like that! Can it really be ladylike?"

"Lady Sybil might be a bit rebellious, but she's a lady through and through," Mrs. Hughes maintained.

Mr. Carson smiled. "I wonder if she knows what a firm defender she has in you."

"I doubt my defense is very meaningful to anyone upstairs," she replied. "But I can't help feeling some affection for her. She will grow up to be a wonderful woman; I'm sure of it."

"She reminds me a little of you," he mused.

Mrs. Hughes was taken aback. "Of me?"

"Of course I didn't know you when you were Lady Sybil's age, but I do remember the impression you gave when you first arrived here," Mr. Carson told her.

Mrs. Hughes raised an eyebrow. "And what impression was that?"

"Well I would never call you rebellious - you knew your business and you always acquitted yourself well. But you're very sweet, though you hide it well."

Mrs. Hughes blushed. "What a testimonial!"

Mr. Carson cleared his throat. He was embarrassed for complimenting her so frankly and searched for a way to change the subject. "Mrs. Hughes, after you confided in me this afternoon, I'd like you to know about something similar recently happened to me."

She furrowed her brow. "Do you mean similar to my meeting with Joe?"

"If Joe is the farmer you spoke of, yes," he affirmed. "In some ways it was entirely different, but I'd like to tell the story, if you'll indulge me."

Mrs. Hughes smiled. "Of course. I should like to hear it."

He paused to gather his thoughts before speaking. "I'm sure you'll remember when I told you about my past on the stage and how my former partner turned up at Downton a few months ago."

She nodded. "Yes, I remember."

"What I didn't tell you then was that his stealing from a theatre wasn't the main reason for our falling out." Mr. Carson frowned as he traveled back to that wretched time. "I was courting a girl named Alice who had a singing act with her sister. 'The Lark and the Dove' they were called."

"And which was she?" Mrs. Hughes wondered.

"The dove, I suppose. Her sister had the voice," he explained. "But Alice was a gentle soul, a sweet and a gentle soul."

"And you wanted to marry her."

"So much I could taste it."

"What happened then? Obviously you didn't marry her."

"We were never formally engaged, but we often spoke of our future together. I was working up the courage to ask for her hand when she broke with me and took up with Grigg."

"Oh, I see," Mrs. Hughes replied. "And all your hopes were dashed." Her face showed her sympathy.

"When I spoke to Grigg a few months back, he told me that he hadn't married Alice. It didn't work out between them, but by then I had left the theatre and gone into service. I had decided I wanted to be a butler, a bachelor for life, and I closed my heart."

"And?"

"I debated with myself what to do, and I asked your advice, which led me to decide to try to track Alice down."

She nodded. "That's what your mysterious errands were. You went to see her."

"I did. I found out she was unmarried and living with her brother in Lancashire. I wrote to her, wondering if there was a chance for us to start again. But when I saw her again, it wasn't like it had been when we were younger. Alice was just the same - sweet and pretty, but stuck in the past. She wanted to talk about the old days constantly and she didn't understand why I didn't enjoy such reminiscences."

"Did she make no reference to her abandoning you for Mr. Grigg?" Mrs. Hughes wanted to know.

"Once, and her apology was feeble, if I'm honest. I saw her twice, at first excusing her behavior as being the result of nerves. We hadn't met in something like thirty years, after all, and I myself was dreadfully nervous. But at our second meeting, it was clear to me that we wouldn't make each other happy."

"I am sorry, Mr. Carson."

He shook his head. "It's better in the end. I'm glad we made peace. There was a time when I thought her superior to every other woman on earth. But I do not think so now. Seeing her as she is now lessened my regrets."

"I'm glad it turned out well, then," Mrs. Hughes said, smiling. "And how interesting that we both considered leaving Downton to marry, almost at the same time!"

"Yes," Mr. Carson agreed. "And yet we both chose to stay."

"I don't think there was much choice, in the end," she remarked. "Both of us had changed, while our old flames had not."

He nodded. "Exactly so."

Mrs. Hughes sighed. "I'm tired, Mr. Carson. I think I'll go up now."

"A very good idea."

Both rose from their seats and headed for the stairs, leaving their empty glasses behind.

_To be continued..._

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	11. Love

Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes settled back into their usual routine, except that everything was completely different. Mr. Carson rejoiced, in his secret heart, that Mrs. Hughes had chosen Downton Abbey over marriage, but he had no intention of telling her that he loved her, that it was she who he now saw as superior to every other woman on earth. He would be her friend, just as before. There was no need to reveal his secret, since it would undoubtedly make her uncomfortable. What they had now, as close friends, was too special to risk. He had suppressed all romantic feelings for years and he was confident he could now suppress their appearance, if not their existence. His heart may have been reanimated, but he still possessed a great deal of self control. He was sure he could live and work by her side without telling her. Perhaps she already knew, in a way, how much he cared for her, but saying the words aloud would change everything, and not likely for the better.

#####

Mrs. Hughes had never been in love before. She was very fond of Joe and might have eventually come to love him. And of course she had had her share of infatuations when she was young. But this wonderful, terrible, overwhelming _thing_ was entirely new to her. She was thankful that Mr. Carson had chosen Downton over Alice, but seeing him every day made it difficult to suppress her feelings. They still often met in the evening for a glass of wine, and she found herself falling more in love with him every day. She was determined, however, to keep her secret. What would be the point of telling him, aside of indulging a selfish wish to unburden herself? Their friendship might be ruined and even if it wasn't, he would certainly be made uncomfortable and things would be awkward between them for some time. She loved him and for that reason she would not tell him.

#####

Mrs. Hughes was surprised to find Mr. Carson in his pantry as she passed his door. She peeked in. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be at the flower show."

He looked up. "I could ask the same thing of you."

"I've some things to catch up on and I thought this bit of quiet would be a good time for it. Besides, I already know what will happen at the flower show. Beautiful blooms all over the room and the dowager wins the Grantham Cup. Isn't that how it always goes?"

Mr. Carson did not contradict her. "I wanted some quiet, too. That's why I'm here."

"Don't let me disturb you, then," Mrs. Hughes replied, stepping out of the room to continue her progress down the corridor.

"Mrs. Hughes, wait."

She turned back. "Yes? What is it?"

"You're not disturbing me. I could do with a break. Would you care to have a cup of tea with me?"

She smiled. "That sounds lovely. Let me go and fix us a tray."

Ten minutes later, they were drinking tea in Mr. Carson's pantry. "I hope the others enjoy the flower show," Mr. Carson commented.

"I'm sure they will, even if it's just because they've been released from their duties for a few hours," Mrs. Hughes laughed.

He smiled. "I think you are right."

She frowned a little. "Mr. Carson, I'm worried about Anna."

"Oh? Why? Is she ill?"

"No, not ill," Mrs. Hughes replied. "But you must have noticed by now that she and Mr. Bates have developed a sort of… rapport."

"Yes, I had noticed," he told her. "And you think he might hurt her?"

"Not exactly," she answered. "I think he returns her feelings, but there is something holding him back. Something serious, I think."

Mr. Carson nodded. "I see."

"It might be better for her if she let go of the idea that she and Mr. Bates might be together, but somehow I doubt she would even consider it."

"I have no argument with that," he told her. "I'm not comfortable with romance downstairs."

"I don't like romance among the staff if it causes trouble, but I can't see Anna and Mr. Bates behaving inappropriately," Mrs. Hughes maintained. "But it does seem a shame that two people who love each other should be kept apart."

"But suppose they married?" Mr. Carson questioned her. "Would one or both of them leave Downton? I can't imagine how they would manage it otherwise, especially if there were children."

"Well, that's true enough," she agreed. "Still, it's very sad."

Mr. Carson looked at Mrs. Hughes and she felt as though he were looking right through her. "But don't you think they could simply go on as good friends, loving each other, but never really going beyond friendship?"

She met his eyes and thought of her own situation. It was similar, the primary difference being that hers was a one-sided love affair. "I suppose you're right," she admitted. "That would keep things less complicated, at any rate. But I can't see Anna giving up so easily. That's why I worry about her."

"I think we've no choice but to leave them to themselves."

Mrs. Hughes nodded. "But enough of such a gloomy topic. What should I ask Mrs. Patmore to make for dinner on your birthday?"

Mr. Carson tried to dismiss her question. "You know I don't like to make a fuss about that."

"Very well, I'll choose for you, but don't think you'll escape entirely. I'll have a little something special for you."

"You won't tell the others, will you? I don't mind your knowing, but otherwise it's no one's business."

"Of course," she agreed. "Though Mrs. Patmore might guess, or she already knows. This won't be the first time I've asked her to make your favorites on your birthday."

"Well, that's all right," he allowed. "But tell her to keep it to herself!"

Mrs. Hughes laughed. "Very well."

Mr. Carson suddenly broke into a wicked grin. "You mustn't forget that _I_ know _your_ birthday as well."

#####

Mrs. Hughes was frustrated. She had been in Ripon for two hours now, and she had not managed to complete her sole errand there. She was looking for a birthday gift for Mr. Carson and nothing seemed right. She found a few items that she knew he would like, but they were far too intimate or expensive, the sort of gift a wife might give to her husband - a pair of cufflinks or a necktie. On the other hand, most of the only other things she found seemed too impersonal as gifts to such a good friend - a letter opener, some stationery. Mrs. Hughes decided to take a break from it and make a brief visit to the nearest teashop. She went inside and asked for a seat by the window; when she took tea alone, she liked to be able to watch what was going on outside. As she sipped her tea and nibbled on a piece of shortbread, she enjoyed the view of passersby walking in and out of shops and making their way, in a hurry or slowly, from one place to the next. Mrs. Hughes was almost finished with her tea when something she saw inspired her. She called the waiter over, paid her bill quickly, and made her way purposefully to a shop where she purchased Mr. Carson's gift. He might object to the expense, but she could argue that the gift was purchased with the intention that he would share it with her. Mrs. Hughes walked to the bus stop with a basket empty but for a bottle of fine scotch whisky.

#####

She didn't wrap the bottle, but simply tied a ribbon around the neck and handed it to Mr. Carson when they were alone in her sitting room. "Happy birthday, Mr. Carson."

He studied the bottle. "This looks expensive."

"I got a special price on it," she lied. "And it's a somewhat selfish gift, since I hope you will share it with me."

Mr. Carson smiled. "Shall we have a glass now?"

"Certainly," Mrs. Hughes agreed.

They enjoyed their whisky in silence, sipping slowly. Mrs. Hughes tried to sneak glances at Mr. Carson when he wasn't looking. He was quite handsome in the evening like this. He was dressed in his pristine white tie and tails, his hair still perfectly in place, but he was more relaxed, and he wore a smile that didn't commonly appear on his face at any other time of day. She couldn't help smiling herself.

Mr. Carson noticed her smile. "You look very pleased, Mrs. Hughes," he noted.

"I _am_ pleased," she told him. "I'm very happy. A birthday is cause for cheer, is it not?"

He laughed. "Not always. I'm glad to have made it through another year, but I'm not so thrilled that I'm another year older."

Mrs. Hughes shrugged. "Perhaps. But I've a lot to be grateful for, so I can't help smiling."

"Well, I'm glad. I like to know you're happy. You _are _the best friend I've got, after all."

She was arrested by his words and his expression. He suddenly looked quite serious. She had some difficulty managing a reply. "I… I'm quite touched, Mr. Carson. I always believed the Crawleys to be your only friends and family."

"In a way they are my only family, but they are not my only friends, Mrs. Hughes." His expression remained almost grave as he stared into her eyes.

"And you, Mr. Carson, are my best friend, as well," she murmured in return.

He smiled again. "I'm so pleased. I couldn't ask for a better friend."

Mrs. Hughes blushed. "Please, Mr. Carson. You're too flattering."

Mr. Carson looked sheepish. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Hughes. I didn't mean to embarrass you. But it's true."

"Well, thank you." She paused for a little while, searching for words. "Do you like the scotch?"

"Yes, it's excellent." _My second favorite Scottish import._ "I'll be sure to share it with you when the occasion calls for something special."

Mrs. Hughes looked at her empty glass. "I suppose I ought to go up to bed," she sighed. "It's quite late."

"Yes, it is. Tomorrow morning will come just as early as always, birthday or no." He rose from his seat and she followed suit, preceding him out of the room. They walked down the corridor and, as usual, exchanged quiet goodnights as they separated for the night.

_To be continued…_

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	12. Illness

Mr. Carson knocked on Mrs. Hughes's open door. "Mrs. Hughes, can you-" He stopped short when she turned her chair to face him. "Mrs. Hughes, are you quite all right? You don't look well."

"Don't I? Oh, dear. I'm afraid I may have caught a cold from one of my maids. I sent Sophie to bed with it yesterday and she's still ill." She wiped her nose with the dainty handkerchief she held in one hand.

"You're very pale. Perhaps you should go to bed," he suggested. "I can send Anna or Miss O'Brien up to check on you later."

Mrs. Hughes nodded. "I've a thousand things to do right now, but I think you're right." She made a few marks in a ledger and closed it. "And have them check on Sophie as well, since I won't be able to. She needs to have tea and plenty of water, as well as a little to eat for every meal and a powder twice a day." She rose from her chair and took out the first aid kit to get several Beechams powders. "I'll take her a powder now, but after that I'll need help from Anna and Miss O'Brien."

Mr. Carson moved to her side. "Are you sure you don't need some help getting up the stairs?" he asked.

Mrs. Hughes smiled wanly. "Quite sure, Mr. Carson," she told him. "I've got a cold, not a broken leg."

He smiled slightly. "Do take care of yourself. I'll be sure someone checks on you and Sophie."

She nodded and made her way upstairs. Once she had taken the powder to Sophie and reached her bedroom, Mrs. Hughes was quite short of breath; she must be more ill than she realized. She changed into her nightgown and collapsed into bed, falling asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

#####

The next day Mrs. Hughes did not come downstairs and Mr. Carson sent Anna up to tend to her and to Sophie. She reported back to him that both the housekeeper and the maid were feeling quite poorly, but that she didn't see any signs that it was anything worse than a bad cold. When Anna went back upstairs to change her cap and apron, however, she found Mrs. Hughes a great deal worse than she had been just after breakfast. Anna poured her a glass of water and promised to come back soon with tea. She tried to hurry through dressing the Crawley girls as fast as she could, but she still didn't find Mr. Carson until just before he announced dinner.

"Mr. Carson!" Anna was glad to have caught him on the stairs.

"What is it, Anna? I haven't got much time."

"Before I dressed the young ladies, I went up to check on Sophie and Mrs. Hughes. Sophie is starting to get better, but Mrs. Hughes is worse - much worse." Anna was wringing her hands. "She's got a fever and can't seem to stop coughing. I can take her some tea now, but I'm not sure how much that will help."

Mr. Carson thought for a moment. "Let me go announce dinner, Anna, and then I'll send a message to Dr. Clarkson. Go ahead and take some tea to Mrs. Hughes now."

"Yes, Mr. Carson." Anna hurried down to the kitchen.

The butler walked briskly to the drawing room, where the family, including the dowager, Mrs. Crawley, and Mr. Matthew, were waiting for his appearance. "Dinner is served, milady," he said to Lady Grantham.

They all rose to go into the dining room. "Is everything all right, Carson?" the countess asked. "It's unusual for dinner to be delayed. Is Mrs. Patmore all right?"

"I apologize, your ladyship," he told her. "Dinner is not delayed, but I was held up on my way here to announce dinner."

"Held up?" Lord Grantham questioned him. "By what?"

"I met Anna on the stairs," Mr. Carson explained. "Mrs. Hughes has been ill since yesterday and Anna tells me she's much worse. I'm afraid I'll have to send for Dr. Clarkson."

Mrs. Crawley spoke up. "Would you like me to look in on Mrs. Hughes, Carson?" she asked. "Is Miss O'Brien or Anna looking after her, perhaps? I might be able to help."

Mr. Carson was relieved. "I'm sure Anna would appreciate your instruction, Mrs. Crawley. I've sent her up with some tea, but I'm afraid she wouldn't know what to do beyond that."

"Then I think I must go now," she declared. "The rest of you go in to dinner. I'll join you shortly." The rest of the family moved into the dining room.

"Are you quite sure, Mrs. Crawley?" Mr. Carson asked. "I would not wish to inconvenience you."

"Nonsense, Carson," she replied with a smile. "If I went into dinner now I'd only be worrying about poor Mrs. Hughes."

"Very well," he agreed. "I'll have a maid show you upstairs." Mr. Carson went into the servery and commanded Daisy to find Gwen and send her up immediately. Once the housemaid had arrived and taken Mrs. Crawley up to Mrs. Hughes, Mr. Carson went into the dining room to serve the wine.

"Carson, what's the matter with Mrs. Hughes?" Lady Sybil wanted to know.

"She went to bed with a cold yesterday afternoon, milady. She thought she'd caught it from one of the housemaids, but the maid is getting better now and Mrs. Hughes is worse."

"I'm sure she's in good hands with Mrs. Crawley, Carson," remarked Lord Grantham.

"I'm sure she is, milord."

Dinner proceeded as usual and Mrs. Crawley arrived in the dining room during the second course. She took her seat and was served by the footmen.

"How is Mrs. Hughes, Isobel?" Lady Grantham asked.

"I'm afraid she's quite ill. I think she may have bronchitis, but I can't say for certain." She turned to Lord Grantham. "I hope you don't mind, but I've taken the liberty of sending Branson for the doctor."

"Of course we don't," the earl assured her. "Thank you, Isobel."

Mr. Carson's face remained impassive as dinner and dessert were served, but he was very concerned. He wondered how long it would take for Dr. Clarkson to arrive. He wondered how seriously ill Mrs. Hughes was. He wondered if he could think of an excuse to visit her room to see how she fared. He didn't like not knowing what was wrong and how serious it was. He was frustrated that he had to stay in the dining room, waiting on the family, when he would prefer to be with her. Mr. Carson reminded himself, however, that even had it not been dinnertime, he would not have been able to be with Mrs. Hughes. He was her friend, but that did not give him the right to invade the women's quarters and visit her in the privacy of her bedroom.

At last dinner was over and Mr. Carson hurried down the stairs to see what he could find out. He caught sight of the chauffeur in the servants' hall. "Mr. Branson, thank you for fetching Dr. Clarkson," he boomed. "How long ago did he arrive?"

"He's been upstairs with Mrs. Hughes for a quarter of an hour, maybe more."

Gwen appeared at the bottom of the stairs. "Mr. Carson, the doctor's on his way down, but he's asking to speak to Mrs. Crawley. Should I fetch her from the drawing room?"

Mr. Carson started up the stairs. "No thank you, Gwen, I'll see to that." Before long he returned with Mrs. Crawley.

"You were right, Mrs. Crawley," the doctor said without preamble. "It's bronchitis, I'm afraid."

"I'm glad you got my note," she replied.

Mr. Carson spoke up. "What does it mean? What's the treatment?"

"I recommend that Mrs. Hughes be moved to the hospital," Dr. Clarkson told him. "It's a matter of practicality in this case. She needs to be supervised, which is more easily done at the hospital than here. Otherwise she would need a trained, dedicated nurse here all day and night."

Mrs. Crawley nodded. "Is there anything I can do to help? Have you told her she's to be taken to the hospital?"

"Yes, Anna's helping her get ready, but she'll have to return to her own responsibilities once the family go to bed."

"Gwen, you can take over for Anna," Mr. Carson directed. "Mr. Branson, please bring the car around."

"Yes, Mr. Carson." Gwen hurried up the stairs again. Mr. Branson headed for the back door.

"I hate to ask it of you, Mrs. Crawley," the doctor began. "But if you would accompany Mrs. Hughes and me to the hospital, I would greatly appreciate it. I'm sure Branson can take you right home from there."

"Of course I'll help," Mrs. Crawley replied. "Just let me go and wish them all good night." And she went upstairs.

Mr. Carson caught Dr. Clarkson's eye and inclined his head down the corridor. "Could I have a word in private?"

The doctor nodded and they went into the butler's pantry. "How bad is it, Dr. Clarkson? Is she in danger?"

"I really can't discuss it with you, Mr. Carson. However, I don't think she's in danger," the doctor assured him. "But she needs treatment..."

"And that treatment is beyond the capabilities of a housemaid," Mr. Carson guessed.

"Precisely. But you're welcome to visit, Mr. Carson. I don't think she should have _many_ visitors, and she may be sleeping most of the time, but if you drop in for a few minutes I'm sure it will help, if only to keep her spirits up."

The butler nodded firmly. "Then I will do my best to visit. Thank you."

There was a slight commotion down the corridor and the two men headed back to the servants' hall. Mrs. Hughes had just arrived downstairs, followed by Gwen with a small bag of the housekeeper's things. Mr. Carson was shocked at how ill Mrs. Hughes looked. She was walking without help, but she moved very slowly and she was dreadfully pale. She was fully dressed, but her hair was still plaited down her back; there was no reason to pin it up since she would only be going right back to bed once she reached the hospital.

Mrs. Crawley came down shortly after. "Carson, could you get Mrs. Hughes's coat, please?" she asked. "You'll know which one is hers."

"Of course." He found her coat among those hung by the back door and brought it back. Mrs. Crawley tried to take it from him, but he pretended not to notice and helped Mrs. Hughes into her coat himself.

She smiled faintly at him. "I'll be back soon, Mr. Carson," she told him. "Mind your manners while I'm gone." Speaking, however, brought on a fit of coughing and Mr. Carson handed her his handkerchief, which she took gratefully.

"I'll see you soon, Mrs. Hughes."

Mrs. Crawley and Dr. Clarkson hurried Mrs. Hughes out the back door, where the car was waiting. Mr. Carson was already making plans for a trip to the village the next day so he could visit her in the hospital. He should have time after the upstairs breakfast.

_To be continued…_

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	13. In Hospital

Mr. Carson was off a bit later than he had hoped, but he would still have plenty of time for a visit to the hospital. Dr. Clarkson had said that he might visit for a few minutes, but if it were possible, he planned to stay longer than just a few minutes. When he arrived, he was shown to Mrs. Hughes with an admonishment from the nurse not to let her talk too much. She was sleeping, or so he thought, but when he sat down by her bed, her eyes fluttered open and she smiled a little.

"Mr. Carson," she greeted him. "This is a pleasant surprise. I didn't expect you."

"Shhh," he shushed her. "The nurse said you shouldn't talk much."

"That's fine with me," she whispered. "I'm exhausted."

"If you like, I can read to you for a little while," Mr. Carson suggested taking a book out of his pocket. "Just nod or shake your head."

Mrs. Hughes nodded and he opened the book to a place he had marked. "'The cat only grinned when it saw Alice,'" he began. "'It looked good-natured, she thought: still it had very long claws and a great many teeth, so she felt that it ought to be treated with respect. "Cheshire-Puss," she began, rather timidly, as she did not at all know whether it would like the name: however, it only grinned a little wider.'" Mrs. Hughes was too tired to laugh, but her smile grew. _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland._ Mr. Carson continued reading and before long, she had fallen asleep. When he noticed that she wasn't awake, he stopped reading, marked his page, and looked at her. Her lips were quirked into a slight smile, but otherwise her face was completely relaxed. In spite of how ill she looked and her disarranged hair, he thought she was beautiful. He watched her sleep for a little while, trying to memorize her face and expression to take back home with him. Normally he would see her several times a day in addition to meals, but today he would have to rely on his memories as he muddled along, trying to do his own job and hers. The ledgers he would leave for now, but the maids mustn't be allowed to run wild. At least he had Anna to help keep them in line and make sure all the work was done.

Mr. Carson left her side and found Dr. Clarkson near the door. "Ah, hello, Carson."

"How is Mrs. Hughes? Has she got through the worst of it."

"I'm afraid I can't tell you - not without her permission."

This was a blow to Mr. Carson. He had forgotten about patient confidentiality rules. "Yes, of course. I'm sorry, doctor," he murmured.

Dr. Clarkson noted the other man's stricken expression. "If you like, I can ask Mrs. Hughes when she's next awake if she has any objection to your knowing the details of her illness and treatment."

"I would appreciate that, Dr. Clarkson."

"You should be aware that it's entirely possible she will refuse this request."

"I understand. It is her decision. Goodbye." Mr. Carson hurried out of the hospital. He relished the long walk back to the Abbey, for it gave him time to think. Up to now he hadn't found it too difficult to keep doing his job and maintaining his friendship with Mrs. Hughes even after he realized he loved her. However, this illness of hers had changed things. If he were her husband, he would be her next of kin, and the doctor would been able to speak to him about her prognosis. Dr. Clarkson had been willing to speak to him about Mrs. Hughes last night, but he had said very little. She had bronchitis and needed constant care. That could mean any number of things. Mr. Carson tried to be optimistic; she had certainly seemed quite ill today, but she was not delirious or in any obvious pain. He would have to wait until tomorrow to find out more.

#####

The empty chair to his right was especially disturbing to Mr. Carson as he tried to eat his dinner that night. The chair had been unoccupied for two days, but he was feeling out of sorts tonight and tried to avoid looking in its direction. He wanted to be at the hospital, but it was impossible right now. He would have to wait until the next day. He wished for the rest of the evening to pass quickly so he could sleep, which would bring the hour when he could visit Mrs. Hughes to him faster. When bedtime came, however, Mr. Carson had difficulty falling asleep, tossing and turning for an hour before he finally found his rest. In the morning he looked at his clock and started counting down the hours and minutes until he could get away from the house on the only errand that mattered to him right now. He tried not to show his impatience to the family and he stayed in his pantry as much as he could. Mr. Carson was not concerned that he might be short-tempered with the footmen or other lower servants, but he did not want to find himself on the wrong side of Mrs. Patmore, which would undoubtedly occur if she were the victim of his ill humor.

At last, everything was done and Mr. Carson made his way to the village. Dr. Clarkson happened to be just inside the door when he entered the hospital. "Mr. Carson," the doctor greeted him. "You'll be glad to know that Mrs. Hughes has given permission for you to be informed about her medical condition."

"Yes, how is she?" he asked.

"Why don't you come into my office?" The doctor led the way. Mr. Carson felt more uneasy with every step. He took the chair that was offered to him and waited. "First, I can assure you that Mrs. Hughes is in no danger, Mr. Carson. But she's had a bad night. We're watching her carefully, but I think the worst is over and she should begin to improve soon. However, she's still very tired, and she may not be awake. In fact, at this point the more she sleeps the faster she will begin to feel better."

"But I _can_ see her?"

"Yes, go right ahead. She's in the same bed she was in yesterday."

Mr. Carson left the doctor's office and within a minute he was seated at Mrs. Hughes's bedside. She was fast asleep. He set _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ on the table and pulled the chair into a position that allowed him to watch her sleep. She wasn't sleeping peacefully; she didn't toss and turn, but she seemed perturbed and mumbled nonsense words, her brow furrowed. Mr. Carson didn't want to wake her by speaking, but he wished there was something he could do to calm her. He looked around and when he saw that no one was nearby, he started to hum, very softly, what had been one of his favorite lullabies as a child. He wanted to take her hand in his, but he couldn't bring himself to be so presumptuous. After a little while, though, he reached out and hooked his little finger around hers. Just that slight contact made Mr. Carson feel better. He relaxed and continued humming. After a little while, he was gratified to find that she seemed to have calmed. She still mumbled something unintelligible from time to time, but her brow had cleared and she seemed to rest easier. He released her finger and his song trailed off into silence. Mr. Carson sat for another quarter hour watching her, before he rose and left the hospital.

In spite of the fact that Mrs. Hughes had slept through his visit, and that she had apparently had a bad night, Mr. Carson felt much calmer than he had that morning and he knew why. There was really nothing he could do to make her recover faster, but today he had felt like his presence made a slight difference. His song seemed to have quieted her. He was sure that he had brought about no physical healing, but it was something. He had not been completely powerless and it was a relief.

#####

Mrs. Hughes awoke several hours later when a nurse brought her tea and toast. For the first time in days, she felt hungry. She was very weak, and she needed help to eat, but she knew instinctively that the worst was over. "What time is it?" she murmured.

"It's seven o'clock, Mrs. Hughes," the nurse answered cheerfully. "We're glad to see you awake. How do you feel?"

"Weak, but better."

"Good." She bustled around the bed, tucking Mrs. Hughes in and making sure the room was tidy. She picked something up off the table. "Did you have a visitor today? My shift's only just begun."

"I don't know. I slept all day."

The nurse opened the book she held and read the title. "'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.' Is this yours or did someone leave it behind?"

Mrs. Hughes smiled. "It isn't mine, but I do believe I know who left it behind."

The nurse lay the book back on the table. "Well, I can see it's made you smile, so I'll leave it here. Perhaps when you're feeling stronger you can read a bit."

Her patient nodded, tired again from her slight exertions. Mrs. Hughes managed to stay awake just long enough to make a request. "Can I have something to eat later?" By the time the nurse answered in the affirmative, she had fallen asleep again.

#####

Mr. Carson's breath caught in his throat when he walked into the hospital the next afternoon and saw Mrs. Hughes sitting up in bed and reading a book. She looked up when she heard his footsteps and she gave him a smile that he thought would keep him happy for days. He pulled up a chair to face her. "I'm glad to see you looking so much better, Mrs. Hughes," he rumbled.

"I'm sorry I wasn't awake when you came yesterday, Mr. Carson."

"I'm not. Dr. Clarkson told me the more you slept the sooner you'd be well." He paused. "Did they tell you I'd visited?" he wondered.

Mrs. Hughes held up the book in her hand. "No, but you left this behind."

Mr. Carson smiled when he recognized _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland._ "So you knew I'd been here."

She nodded.

"And how are you?" he asked.

"Much better," she answered. "Still pretty tired, but I can tell I'm getting better. I was really wretched until I woke up last evening."

"You gave us quite a fright, Mrs. Hughes," he remarked quietly.

"I was never in _that_ kind of danger, Mr. Carson," Mrs. Hughes pointed out.

"I know," he admitted. "But it made me think. What if you _had_ been in danger? What if something happened and you never knew…" Mr. Carson trailed off.

"Never knew what?" she wanted to know.

"Nothing," he told her, shaking his head. "Never mind."

Mrs. Hughes frowned and let the book in her hands rest on the bed beside her. "Tell me."

"No." He shook his head resolutely. "It would be selfish of me to say it, just to soothe my own feelings, when it would be uncomfortable for you."

"You said that to me once before and you were wrong."

Mr. Carson frowned. "What do you mean?"

"It didn't upset me to hear about Mr. Grigg," she explained. "If there's some way I can soothe your feelings, Mr. Carson, for heaven's sake, tell me!"

He was still doubtful. "But if it _does_ make you uneasy, perhaps we can pretend it was never said."

"You're making me uneasy now by holding back. I'm sure it can't be that bad."

Mr. Carson sighed. "All right then. Mrs. Hughes, you know that I am your friend and that I care about you very much."

"Yes, I do." She smiled slightly.

"But it's more than that," he continued before looking up into her eyes. There was a long silence before he spoke again. "I love you. And I would have been sorry had anything happened to you without your knowing how much you mean to me."

Mrs. Hughes's smile grew and her eyes grew moist. "You needn't have worried, Mr. Carson. You haven't made me uncomfortable; quite the reverse." Mr. Carson's eyes grew wide. "I'd never planned to tell you so, but I love you, too."

He tried to answer, but a lump in his throat prevented it. He wouldn't have known what to say if he _could_ speak. He had thought of so many responses she might have to his declaration, but this was not one of them. He was overwhelmed by this news. She loved him! He had thought it impossible, but it was true.

This tender moment was interrupted by a nurse arriving with tea. Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes tried to compose themselves. Mr. Carson stood up to move out of the way. "I'm afraid you'll have to go now, Mr. Carson," the nurse told him. "Mrs. Hughes needs her rest."

"Of course," he agreed. He didn't move right away, but after he caught Mrs. Hughes's eye and smiled, he slowly backed away from her bed and left the hospital.

Mr. Carson walked home in a daze. He could hardly believe what had just happened. He'd told Mrs. Hughes that he loved her and she'd said she loved him back. And then that bloody nurse had sent him away before another word could be said about it! He could hardly be angry, though, when that nurse was caring for Mrs. Hughes. Not to mention the fact that even if he'd sat in that chair by her bed for another hour he still might not have known what to say.

_To be continued…_

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	14. Welcome Home

Mr. Branson was sent to bring Mrs. Hughes home late the next morning. Mr. Carson was as nervous as could be, waiting impatiently for her arrival, planning what he would say to her. He hoped she would agree with his idea. He was in his pantry when she arrived. Mr. Branson left the car in the yard so he could give Mrs. Hughes his arm to walk inside. When he heard the back door open, Mr. Carson stepped out of his pantry to see her leaning on the young man as they made their way down the corridor.

"Welcome home, Mrs. Hughes," he greeted her, smiling.

She returned his smile. "Thank you, Mr. Carson." She turned. "Thank you, Mr. Branson. I shall be fine from here." The young man nodded, set Mrs. Hughes's bag down, and left.

"How do you feel? Would you like to sit down?" Mr. Carson offered her a chair.

"I would, thank you," she answered breathlessly. "It doesn't take much to tire me. Dr. Clarkson told me it would be that way for a little while." She sat down and Mr. Carson took a chair facing her.

"You'd better stay in bed, then," he told her. "We'll bring all your meals to you."

"For the first day or two, yes," she agreed. "But after that I might come down for at least one or two meals. The doctor said I should start slowly, but that I shouldn't stay in bed all day once I've settled back in here. I can eat with all of you and then after a few more days perhaps take a short walk in the afternoon when it's warm."

Mr. Carson nodded. "But don't overdo it, Mrs. Hughes. We can't have you relapsing."

"Well, I'm too tired to argue with you now, but I won't be kept locked away in the attic any longer than is necessary."

He smiled. "Of course not. Now let me find someone to help you upstairs." He went down the corridor and found a hallboy, but before he could be sent on his errand, Anna came down.

"How can I help, Mr. Carson?" the maid asked.

He motioned for her to follow him to his pantry.

"Mrs. Hughes is home and I'd like you to take her upstairs and get her settled in bed. Can you spare the time?"

"I can," she told him. "How is she?"

"Much better, though still very tired."

"Good morning, Mrs. Hughes," Anna greeted the housekeeper. "I'm glad to see you back. Now let's get you up to your room." She offered her hand to help Mrs. Hughes rise from the chair. "Mr. Carson, could you take her coat, please? I'll take care of the rest."

"Of course." He helped Mrs. Hughes out of her coat. "Let me know if there's anything I can do to help, Anna."

"Yes, Mr. Carson." Anna picked up the small bag Mr. Branson had left and went to the housekeeper's side. "Lean on me, Mrs. Hughes."

Mrs. Hughes took Anna's arm and the two women made their slow way down the corridor and up the stairs. Mr. Carson watched them until they were out of sight. He hoped he could speak to Mrs. Hughes alone soon. Although he doubted her reputation would be damaged, it might not be quite proper for him to visit her room, so he would have to wait until she came downstairs in a few days' time. Perhaps he could accompany her on one of her walks.

#####

Mrs. Hughes stayed in bed the rest of that day and all of the next, but on her third day home she came down for breakfast. She was still pale, but looked more animated than she had since she first became ill. Mr. Carson was glad to see her in her proper chair to his right at the table and glad to see her looking so much better. It had been two days since he'd seen her last and almost a week since she'd eaten with the staff. He insisted on fixing her tea and buttering her toast for her and, just this once, she decided to let him fuss over her. She didn't like to be seen as weak, but she knew he wasn't helping her out of pity, but because he cared about her and there weren't many ways he could show it. She just smiled and thanked him.

"I'll be down for luncheon, Mr. Carson, but I think I'll take a tray in my room for an early dinner. We eat so late I think I might be asleep by then."

"That sounds very sensible," he replied.

Mrs. Hughes watched him carefully when she spoke again, wondering what his reaction would be. "I'd like to look over my ledgers this morning before I go back to my room."

Mr. Carson looked stern. "I don't know if that's a good idea, Mrs. Hughes."

"What if I say I'll only stay for a half hour?" she suggested. "Would you be happy then?"

"I still wouldn't like it," he answered. "But am I happy?" He lowered his voice. "I'm more happy than I could possibly say that you are home and on the mend."

Mrs. Hughes flushed slightly. "I'm happy to be back here… with you," she said softly, looking into her teacup.

After breakfast, Mr. Carson followed her to her sitting room. She sat down at her desk and opened a ledger. There was a stack of receipts on her desk.

"Are you quite sure you'll be all right?" Mr. Carson worried. "You're not too tired?"

She turned to face him with a smirk. "I'm about to be tired of your acting like a mother hen, Mr. Carson! I've told you I'll only stay half an hour and if I'm still here after that time, you have my permission to come back in here and drag me bodily away from my desk."

Mr. Carson frowned. "I couldn't do that, Mrs. Hughes! It would be too… disrespectful."

Mrs. Hughes laughed. "I don't think it will come to that, Mr. Carson."

"Very well, if you're sure."

"I'm sure."

Mr. Carson frowned, but left her in peace. She could see from the quantity of receipts on her desk that she would not be getting through it all today, but she would feel better if she got a little of it done. She noted the time so she would know when to stop. She worked efficiently for about twenty minutes and then she felt suddenly exhausted. She put down her pen, closed the ledger, and went looking for Mr. Carson.

"I'm going up, Mr. Carson," she told him, when she found him at his desk. "I got started on that large stack of receipts, but I'm tired now."

He got up from his desk and approached her. "Do you need someone to help you?" he asked, concerned.

"I dressed myself and came downstairs on my own steam. I assure you, I am perfectly capable of reversing the process without any help." She hurried out of the room, looking over her shoulder briefly to say, "I'll see you at luncheon, Mr. Carson."

Mrs. Hughes was a little out of breath when she reached the top of the stairs, but she could feel that she was growing stronger. There was no denying that she wasn't herself yet, but she felt optimistic about her recovery. She was otherwise a strong and healthy woman, so there was no reason she shouldn't be back to her usual routine before long. As she changed from her morning dress back into her nightgown, Mrs. Hughes recalled the last thing she said to Mr. Carson. She had been so embarrassed, as soon as the words left her mouth, that she had left the room before he could reply. _I dressed myself. I'm perfectly capable of reversing the process._ She wasn't one to cry over spilt milk, but she couldn't help blushing again at the thought of it. She could hardly believe she had spoken so plainly to Mr. Carson, or anyone for that matter, about removing her clothing. _Well, there's nothing to be done about it now,_ she told herself. She climbed back into bed and picked up the book on her bedside table. She had brought _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ home from the hospital, but hadn't had a chance to read it since then. She yawned as she opened the cover; she wasn't sure she would make it downstairs for luncheon as she'd planned. Perhaps she'd go down later for tea. Mrs. Hughes flipped to the page Mr. Carson had marked and began to read. However, her eyes closed of their own accord within a minute and she fell asleep with the book lying open across her stomach.

#####

Mrs. Hughes did not make it downstairs for luncheon. After a few minutes of trying not to glance at her empty chair, he spoke to Anna.

"Anna, when you finish eating could you go up and check on Mrs. Hughes? This morning she said she would be down for luncheon."

"There's no need, Mr. Carson," Miss O'Brien told him. "I looked in on her a little while ago, before I came down just now, and she was sleeping."

"Thank you, Miss O'Brien," the butler answered. "And she seemed all right?"

"Sleeping like a babe. I suppose breakfast and a half hour at her ledgers was enough to make her tired."

Mr. Carson briefly studied the lady's maid's face for some sign of sarcasm, but she seemed sincere, although she must have been eavesdropping if she knew that Mrs. Hughes planned to work on her ledgers after breakfast.

"Shall I take her a tray, Mr. Carson?" Anna asked him.

"No, thank you, Anna. You have enough on your plate. I'll make sure she's taken care of." Mr. Carson gave a nod and returned to his food. The other servants returned to their meals and their chatter.

He knew he should have accepted Anna's offer, or asked Gwen or even Miss O'Brien to do it. He should not even be contemplating the idea of taking a tray up to Mrs. Hughes himself, but even after he had finished his meal, he was still considering it. A dozen little things might have stopped him. If Mrs. Patmore had questioned him about it, he would have asked Daisy or a passing housemaid to take it up, but the cook handed the tray to him without a second look. This might be his best chance of speaking to Mrs. Hughes alone. He'd had enough time to think since they spoke last at the hospital and he knew what he wanted to say to her.

Mr. Carson paused at the bottom of the maids' staircase, tray in hand. No one was paying him any mind. When one last glance told him the corridor was empty, he hurried up the stairs as quietly as possible. He read the small name cards on each door until he found the room labeled "Mrs. Hughes." He knocked on the door and when he received no answer he opened it enough to peek into the room. Once he had ascertained that Mrs. Hughes was tucked modestly under her blankets, he entered, closing the door behind him.

_To be continued…_

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	15. A Visit

The chair next to her bed was already placed for any visitor to sit facing the housekeeper. Seeing that Mrs. Hughes was asleep, Mr. Carson set down the tray on her bedside table and took the chair. He watched her sleep for several minutes before she awoke on her own. Her eyes cracked open, but when Mrs. Hughes recognized her visitor, her eyes opened wide.

"Mr. Carson!" she exclaimed. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"I'll go if you'd prefer it," he offered. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"No, please stay," she entreated. "If you can spare the time, that is."

"I can." He inclined his head towards the tray. "I've brought you something to eat."

Mrs. Hughes pulled herself up into a sitting position. "Thank you so much, Mr. Carson. I'm starving. I fell asleep almost as soon as I came up here and, as you see, I slept through luncheon."

Mr. Carson helped her situate the tray across her lap and she took a sip of tea, avoiding his gaze. He watched her as she ate, musing to himself that as many times as he'd eaten a meal by her side, he had never before been able to follow her every movement with his eyes.

"You're very quiet, Mr. Carson," Mrs. Hughes observed without looking up from her tray. "Is anything wrong?"

"Not _wrong_, exactly," he replied. "But there's something I want to talk to you about and I'm not sure how to begin."

"Isn't it usually easiest to start at the beginning?" she suggested.

"That's just the trouble. I'm not sure what the beginning was."

Mrs. Hughes set down her fork and took a deep breath. "Do you want to talk to me about what we said the last time you visited me in the hospital? Is that what you're trying to say?"

"Yes. That's what I want to discuss," he agreed. "I have an idea."

"An idea?"

"I hope it doesn't offend you."

"I don't see how it could, Mr. Carson."

"Very well. I was thinking about the future and what it might hold for both of us, together."

"Do you mean... that we might be married?" Mrs. Hughes asked.

"I do," he told her. "I've thought a lot about how we might be married. I don't think we could keep our posts if we were married. That would mean leaving Downton or..."

The silence grew long and she prompted him. "Or?"

"I don't like the idea very much, but it would be possible for us to marry secretly. If we went to the Register Office the banns wouldn't have to be read and no one would know." Mr. Carson waited for her reaction.

"I don't really like the idea of a secret marriage, either. It would seem so much as though we were ashamed somehow."

"But you _do_ like the idea of our being married?" he asked hopefully.

Mrs. Hughes smiled. "Of course I do. But how can we manage it?"

"As I said, we could leave Downton, but if you're not ready to retire, there is one other option. We could agree to marry when we retire."

"That could be a long time from now," Mrs. Hughes mused. "But it might be our best option."

"You don't have to answer right away. Take some time to think about it."

She nodded. "I will think about it. But I will marry you one way or another. It is only a question of when and how."

Mr. Carson smiled. "I'm so glad. I do love you, Mrs. Hughes," he murmured.

"I love you, too," Mrs. Hughes replied. "I never thought I would say those words to you."

"I'm glad you have." Mr. Carson wanted to reach for her hand, but he restrained himself. Until they decided how to proceed with their engagement, it was probably best to avoid touching her. He had done it for so long already; he could certainly continue. He could smile at her now, though, and caress her with his eyes, without worrying that she would guess his secret. He would have to behave as he had before when they were not alone, but he could manage that with very little trouble.

"Thank you for bringing me my luncheon," Mrs. Hughes said.

"You're welcome. Do you think you might come down for tea?"

"I'm not sure. It depends on how I feel. I didn't realize how wearying breakfast and some work on my ledgers would be."

Mr. Carson chuckled. "I can believe it."

"I hope that tomorrow I can take a walk," she remarked. "Do you think you could find the time to come with me?"

"I certainly hope so," he told her. "But if _I'm_ not available you're still not going alone."

"What do you mean? Why not?"

"Suppose you became suddenly very tired," he suggested. "You'd need someone to lean on - someone to help you find a place to sit down."

"I suppose you're right," Mrs. Hughes admitted, yawning.

Mr. Carson took the tray from her and rose from his seat. "I can see you're tired, so I'll let you rest now. I may not see you until tomorrow, but I'll send one of the maids to check on you and bring your meals to your room."

"Thank you for taking such good care of me, Mr. Carson."

He tried to dismiss her compliment. "I only give the orders, Mrs. Hughes."

"But if you didn't give the orders, I would be left to my own devices," she insisted.

Mr. Carson chose not to argue. He smiled and wished her a peaceful rest before slipping out of her room with the empty tray.

_To be continued…_

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	16. Making Plans

Every day for the next week, Mr. Carson took Mrs. Hughes out for a walk. She gradually grew stronger and was able to spend more and more time downstairs catching up on her work. Mr. Carson was glad to see this and he enjoyed their walks together. He knew that once she was completely well again, he would lose his excuse for this time alone with her and for that he was sorry.

One afternoon, when they were strolling the grounds together, Mrs. Hughes brought up the subject of their engagement. "I've been thinking about what you asked me recently. About our getting married."

"And have you come to a decision?"

She nodded. "I have. Mr. Carson, I'm just short of forty-seven years old. I'm not ready to retire. If we married and left Downton, we would simply move from one form of employment to another. If we stay here, we're together every day, and neither of us has to leave a good position. You won't have to leave the Crawleys and I won't have to give up my post."

Mr. Carson smiled. "Quite right."

"Then you approve of my plan?" she wanted to know.

"Yes. I agree with you. And when the time comes to retire, we'll be married."

"Yes. Perhaps the family will pension us off in one of the estate cottages, but if not, we can pool our resources to make do on our own."

Again, Mr. Carson was struck by the impulse to touch her. All he wanted was to squeeze her hand for a moment, but they were well within view of just about every window on one side of the house. It was just as well, he thought. It might be a long time before they were married and even taking minor liberties now could be seen as inappropriate.

Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes walked back to the house in companionable silence.

#####

One day about a month later Mrs. Hughes was fully recovered and completely caught up on her work. The air was cool and crisp and she felt full of energy and purpose. She was also especially looking forward to spending some time with Mr. Carson late that evening. He seemed equally lighthearted and they exchanged jokes and other little amusements whenever their paths crossed throughout the day. They entered the servants' hall together for dinner that evening. Most of the staff were already gathered and Miss O'Brien and Thomas were ensconced in the far corner of the room. Mr. Carson touched Mrs. Hughes's upper arm and nodded in their direction, his eyebrows raised. She returned his significant look, but could not speak. They took their places at dinner and Mrs. Hughes tried to make sense of what had just happened. Fortunately, Mr. Carson was distracted from her, so she could think uninterrupted. Mr. Carson had touched her arm with his hand and she felt like she'd been given a mild electric shock. Mrs. Hughes couldn't remember the last time he had touched her; indeed, she wasn't entirely sure he _ever_ had. Even on the rare occasions when he helped her on or off with her coat, he was always careful not to allow his fingers to stray. She glanced at Mr. Carson and wondered if he even realized what he had done. He looked perfectly normal, with one exception; he was avoiding her eyes. Perhaps he was quite as aware as she was that something out of the ordinary had just taken place.

Mr. Carson was, indeed, aware that he had touched Mrs. Hughes. He was trying to convince himself that it was perfectly normal, with little success. He knew how infrequently he touched _anyone_; he certainly knew when it came to the woman he loved. He remembered the day he had visited her in the hospital while she was sleeping. He could not bring himself to hold her hand without her permission, but he had linked his little finger with hers, while he hummed a lullaby. That might have been the first and only time he had touched her. He remembered that he had happened upon her in the downstairs corridor, shortly after she had arrived at Downton, just as she was reading the letter telling her that her mother had died. She had tried to be calm, but was unable to contain her grief. Mr. Carson had listened to her news, handed her his handkerchief, and sent her to bed. Even in such a moment, he had kept his distance. He wondered why the sight of Miss O'Brien and Thomas scheming in the corner of the servants' hall should prompt him to touch her. He knew the answer, however. Keeping her at arm's length was proving more difficult than he had anticipated. Mr. Carson wondered just how long he could keep it up. Would they have to change their plans? He told himself to stay calm. There was no need to panic over two seconds of contact.

Between their mutual musings, Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes didn't speak for the entire meal, but he made sure to ask her to join him for a glass of wine after the others had gone to bed. She agreed with a smile and all was well. He went upstairs to fulfill the rest of his duties while she double-checked some entries in her ledgers. Gradually the rest of the staff made their way to their rooms for the night and Mr. Carson came down from the drawing room. Mrs. Hughes closed her books and turned in her chair. She could hear him gathering glasses and before long he appeared at her open door, his hands hidden behind his back.

"What have you got behind your back, Mr. Carson?" she wanted to know.

"Happy birthday, Mrs. Hughes," he replied, revealing the bottle of whisky he had been hiding. "I thought it was a good occasion for a glass or two of this fine Scotch whisky." He set the bottle and the tumblers on the table.

"Thank you, Mr. Carson. I appreciate your sharing it with me."

He poured a glass and handed it to Mrs. Hughes. "What's mine is yours," he told her, pouring his own glass and sitting down across from her.

"That's not _quite _true, though, is it?" she asked, then sipped her drink. "And it won't be until we're really married."

Mr. Carson frowned. "Does that bother you, Mrs. Hughes?" he asked. "Are you unhappy?"

"Of course I'm not unhappy. I didn't mean to imply that I was. But the truth is that we are _not _married, so what's yours isn't really mine."

"We may not be married, but if I die before I have a chance to marry you-"

"Mr. Carson, please don't talk like that!"

"Please hear me out, Mrs. Hughes," Mr. Carson urged. "I made a new will about a month ago. Everything I own will be yours, just as it would be if you were my wife."

Mrs. Hughes paused for a few moments. "That was an excellent idea. I should probably do the same."

"But let's not dwell on such gloomy thoughts, my love. Today is a day of celebration."

She smiled. "I should find it hard to be gloomy when you call me 'my love.'"

He returned her smile. "Today I celebrate the day that the woman I love came into this world."

Mrs. Hughes was blushing furiously. They had not spoken of their engagement from the day it was formed to this. Mr. Carson never referred to her as anything other than 'Mrs. Hughes' and they did not discuss their feelings for one another or any plans they might have for the future. It was always in the back of their minds, present but never discussed. Tonight things were different. Mrs. Hughes wondered if this kind of intimacy could be dangerous, but she chose not to worry about it. It was her birthday and she would enjoy herself.

"I wonder sometimes if you have any idea what you're getting yourself into," she began. "I can't imagine you'll find it easy being my husband."

"Perhaps not easy, but still wonderful. Don't forget you'll have to deal with having _me_ as a husband, too."

She laughed. "I already know some of your ways, just from working with you."

"That's true," Mr. Carson admitted. "I suppose in a way we're already half married."

Mrs. Hughes shook her head. "No, I don't think so. We know each other as good friends, but I think being married will be something else entirely, and I'm not referring to anything... vulgar."

Mr. Carson flushed, but otherwise kept his composure. "You're probably right. But you're changing the subject again." He stood and poured more whisky in their glasses. "Here's a toast to my Elsie. May good fortune smile on her throughout her life."

They both drank this toast and settled into conversation on more mundane topics until their drinks were finished.

"I think we'd better go to bed now, Mr. Carson," Mrs. Hughes suggested. "Any more of this whisky and we may not be fit for work tomorrow."

Mr. Carson chuckled. Neither of them was beyond a little tipsy, but it was still time to get some rest. He closed the bottle and took it back to his pantry. Mrs. Hughes began switching off lights, but she waited for him to close up his pantry. Almost every night they bid each other good night in the corridor right before they separated. Mr. Carson caught up with her and she turned to say good night, but he surprised her by taking her hand. She looked into his warm, smiling eyes and could do nothing but wait to see what he did next. He lifted her hand and gave it a squeeze. For one breathless moment she thought he might kiss her hand, but then he released it, wished her good night, and disappeared up the stairs.

#####

The next morning at breakfast, Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes met and talked as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. They observed their usual formalities and met only briefly in the evening, when Mr. Carson begged her pardon for being unable to join her for a glass of wine. He was rather tired and needed to retire early. Several more evenings like this were enough to make Mrs. Hughes understand. They had pushed some boundaries too far on her birthday. Mr. Carson considered himself responsible and was trying to make things right. After this, they fell back into an earlier routine of sharing tea before the upstairs dinner or a drink late at night, but only once or twice a week. They returned to their formal style of address, never touched, and never spoke of their shared future. This continued for many weeks. It was only the festive mood of the Christmas season that shook things loose again.

_To be continued..._

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	17. Miracle Workers

**Hi, all! I'm sorry I haven't been responding to reviews lately, but I will catch up one of these days. I appreciate all of your reviews, comments, likes, and reblogs. I couldn't keep doing this without you guys.**

"Mrs. Hughes, I am so sorry about these last-minute changes," Lady Grantham said.

Mrs. Hughes shook her head. "Not to worry, milady," she assured her mistress. "We're flexible. Mr. Carson and I will see to it that all your instructions are carried out."

The countess smiled kindly. "You and Carson really are miracle workers."

Mrs. Hughes nodded and excused herself to go downstairs. She knocked on Mr. Carson's door and let herself in without waiting for a response. He looked up from his desk. "Is anything the matter, Mrs. Hughes?"

"Her ladyship's asked us to work some magic," she replied. "I think you and I are up to the challenge, but it's going to take some doing." She walked to his desk and read from her list. "Eight extra overnight guests for the week and more elaborate plans for the Christmas Eve celebration."

"What are your thoughts?" Mr. Carson asked her.

"The overnight guests we can take care of pretty easily. It's just extra linen to be cleaned and changed, and we'll need Anna and Thomas on alert for any guests who may be traveling without a maid or valet."

He nodded. "And what about the elaborate Christmas Eve festivities?"

Mrs. Hughes sighed. "I'll have to sit down with her ladyship's list and work out a plan for that. There's no point in talking to Mrs. Patmore until I know what I'll be asking her to do." She showed the list to Mr. Carson.

His eyebrows rose. "This _will_ make a lot of extra work for you. Let me know what you need me to do."

"Thank you, Mr. Carson. I'll let you know how you can help once I figure it out myself." She smiled and headed for the door, but he stopped her just before she left.

"Mrs. Hughes, when shall we exchange gifts this Christmas?" Mr. Carson asked.

She looked thoughtful. "Christmas night, I think. Christmas Eve is always so busy."

"Very good, Mrs. Hughes," Mr. Carson replied, smiling.

#####

Thomas grumbled, Anna was was run off her feet, and Mrs. Patmore shouted, but Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes managed to make all of Lady Grantham's plans a reality. The Christmas Eve celebration with the tenant farmers and the family and staff went off perfectly. Mr. Carson found Mrs. Hughes standing at the side of the room Christmas Eve, taking in the whole festive spectacle and making sure that everything was unfolding as it should.

"Very well done, Mrs. Hughes," he told her. "No one would know how little notice you had for so many aspects of this party. You've managed it beautifully, as always."

"Thank you, Mr. Carson," she replied. "And thank you for your help."

"It was nothing. Just lending you a few hall boys didn't require any work on my part."

"But I appreciate it anyway." She looked up at him. "I'd say we make a great team," she murmured.

Mr. Carson only nodded, looking solemnly into her eyes.

The caroling started and the butler and housekeeper joined in singing. It was a time of joy for all. The holiday spirit present in the room made all of the extra work worthwhile. Even Thomas looked cheerful as he sang carols with the assembled family, staff, and guests.

Later, when the crowd had dispersed, when they were directing the cleaning of the great hall, Mr. Carson caught Mrs. Hughes for a moment. "Would you like some whisky?" he asked.

She could not help smiling. "Certainly," she replied. "We deserve it."

After the great hall was cleaned well enough that the rest could be left until the next day, Mrs. Hughes joined Mr. Carson in his pantry, where they shared some whisky.

"I'm going to have to buy you another bottle, Mr. Carson," she commented. "It must be almost empty."

"Not quite," he told her. "There's plenty for tomorrow night when we exchange gifts."

"Then perhaps, if we're careful, it will last until your next birthday and then I'll buy you another."

Mr. Carson smiled and sipped his drink, studying Mrs. Hughes's face. She looked right back at him, wondering what it was he saw when he looked at her that way.

"Mrs. Hughes," he said after a long silence. "I hope you know how very dear to me you are. We don't speak of it much, but you mustn't forget it."

She blushed slightly. "I do know. And I feel the same for you. It's all there, whether we discuss it or not."

Mr. Carson set down his glass and reached for her free hand. Her breath hitched when he took her hand between both of his. "You're beautiful, Elsie. I love you."

"I love you, too," Mrs. Hughes answered shakily. The warmth from his hands seemed to spread throughout her body. They were seated facing each other, knees almost touching. She set down her drink and leaned forward to cover his hand with hers. They did not speak; the only sound in the room was their breathing. Their faces were close together, but neither of them moved. Mrs. Hughes noticed that Mr. Carson's attention had drifted from her eyes to her lips. He moved slightly toward her before he stopped himself. He pulled away, though not loosening his grip on her hands. He moved his hands so he was holding each of hers in one of his. He raised one of her hands to his lips and kissed it. He released her, but Mrs. Hughes kept hold of one of his hands, which she raised to her own lips, before following his example and letting go. Mr. Carson hurriedly picked up his glass of whisky and took a burning gulp, looking everywhere but at Mrs. Hughes. She, on the other hand, sat very still and watched him. Her own heart was pounding, but she wondered what he might be thinking and feeling. She herself was beginning to wonder if waiting until retirement to marry was a good idea. It seemed that it might be difficult to maintain a professional relationship until then. She found herself weighing the other options. It could be ten or twenty years, possibly more, before they retired. They'd admitted their feelings only a few months before and already it was becoming increasingly difficult, even with the greatest efforts at restraint, to avoid crossing certain boundaries of propriety.

Mrs. Hughes had not finished her drink, but she felt she ought to go now. She wasn't sure if things would get out of hand, but she thought it was better to be cautious than take a chance. She and Mr. Carson were playing a very dangerous game. "I'm tired, Mr. Carson," she told him. "I'm going up to bed. You're welcome to what's left of my whisky." She smiled and gestured toward her glass. "Good night."

"Good night, Mrs. Hughes." Mr. Carson almost followed her, but decided it was safer for them to part here. After she left, he finished his whisky and hers before locking up and going to bed himself.

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	18. Christmas Day

Christmas Day flew by just as quickly as Christmas Eve had, but the festivities were finished much earlier in the day. Dinner for the servants was almost ordinary and they were in bed at the usual hour, tired from their exertions over the last two days. On Boxing Day things would return to normal and most of the servants were relieved at that thought.

Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes met in the evening to exchange gifts. Mr. Carson considered serving wine instead of his fine Scotch whisky, in case it was the strong liquor that led him to behave inappropriately, but he knew he could not blame any alcohol for the liberties he had taken recently. Mrs. Hughes would expect whisky, and whisky she would have.

She hurried into his pantry with a small box in her hand and closed the door behind her. Her expression was merry and her mood excited. "I don't know why, but I feel like a child on Christmas morning."

"Well you _are_ about to receive a gift."

"I've received a gift from you almost every year for the last decade, but I don't remember feeling so eager to tear open the paper since I was a girl."

Mr. Carson smiled. "Then we'll have to exchange gifts right away. The whisky can wait." He went to his desk and opened a drawer, from which he drew a small box wrapped up and adorned with a ribbon.

"You go first," Mrs. Hughes urged him, holding out her gift.

He set hers aside and opened the box. Inside he found a new pair of cuff links. They weren't gaudy or expensive; in fact, they looked very much like the ones he already wore. "Thank you, Elsie. These are very fine."

"I know they're almost the same as your others, but you've had those for a very long time, Mr. Carson." Although he occasionally addressed her by her Christian name, Mrs. Hughes could not yet bring herself to do so in return.

He looked closely at the new cuff links. "They are not quite the same. And they are new and shiny. Excellent quality, I can easily see."

"Why don't you put them on now?" Mrs. Hughes suggested. Mr. Carson was surprised at her suggestion, but had no objection, so he set aside the box and began to remove his old cuff links. "Here, let me help," Mrs. Hughes told him, brushing his hand away. She removed them quickly from both of his cuffs and took a new one from its box. She slowed down a bit, fitting them carefully in his cuffs. "There you go," she said, satisfied. "They look very fine." It was only when she looked up at Mr. Carson that Mrs. Hughes realized how close together they were standing. "You look very fine," she whispered. He wanted to kiss her, but instead he cupped her cheek with his hand. His resolve was sorely tested when she smiled and closed her eyes, leaning into his palm.

"Are you ready for your gift?" he asked hoarsely.

Mrs. Hughes opened her eyes slowly. "Yes, of course." Mr. Carson moved away from her to pick up the wrapped box and then handed it to her. "I hope you like it."

She unwrapped the box and opened it and her eyes widened. "Oh," she breathed. "It's beautiful."

_Beautiful like you,_ Mr. Carson thought, but he kept this observation to himself. "Do you think so? It was hard to decide which to buy, but this one seemed perfect for you once I'd thought about it."

Looking again at the decorative comb in the box, Mrs. Hughes saw that he was exactly right. It was made of intricately carved wood, a masterpiece of workmanship, but it was not decorated by any jewels or precious metals. It would be the perfect ornament for the servants' ball or another such event; it was very elegant, yet not too ostentatious to be worn by a servant. More than that it reminded him of her, although he couldn't have explained why. "It's absolutely perfect."

"Will you try it for me?" Mr. Carson asked. "I changed my cuff links, after all. I think it's only fair."

She smiled. "Very well." Setting aside the box, she took the comb in her hands and settled it in her hair. "I don't know if I've done it quite right. Usually I have an extra mirror so I can look at the back." She turned her back to him so he could see how it looked.

"It looks a little crooked," he observed. "Let me fix it." Mr. Carson reached out and straightened the comb. He did not allow his fingers to touch her skin, but the minor contact with her silky hair made him want to bury his hands in it, scattering the comb and her hairpins all over the floor. Instead, he turned away from her to fetch his bottle of Scotch whisky and a pair of glasses.

Mrs. Hughes turned back and took her seat. She pulled the comb from her hair and laid it back in the box, which she closed and placed on the table beside her. Mr. Carson handed her a glass of whisky and sat down with his own, his chair quite a distance from hers. "Happy Christmas, Mr. Carson."

"Happy Christmas, Mrs. Hughes." He had retreated to addressing her formally once again. Somehow it seemed safer. They did not speak much as they sipped their drinks. When Mrs. Hughes's glass was empty, Mr. Carson did not offer her a second.

She rose from her chair and picked up the little box that held her gift from him. "I'm going up now, Mr. Carson," she told him. "Thank you so much for the lovely gift. Happy Christmas." She made her way to the door and opened it.

"Happy Christmas, Mrs. Hughes," he murmured. "And good night."

"Good night." And she disappeared into the corridor.

Left alone in his pantry, Mr. Carson was coming to a decision. Either he and Mrs. Hughes would have to make some strict resolutions and keep to them or they would have to change their plans. He was ready to give restraint another try. As he locked up, went upstairs, and prepared for bed, he was detailing a plan in his mind. Unfortunately, he went about his plan by making an extensive mental list of all of the things he would _not_ do, which led to contemplation of doing every single one of them. It took him over an hour to fall asleep and he anticipated a frustrating day tomorrow.

_To be continued..._

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	19. The Servants' Ball

Mr. Carson had kept to his own resolutions since Christmas. He had not touched Mrs. Hughes for any reason, and they no longer closed the door when they were together in his pantry or her sitting room. She seemed to be following his lead and things were going well. They were never closer than they should be, but friendly relations were maintained.

The servants' ball was coming up soon, which meant extra work and preparation. Still, it was nothing like the amount of work that had to be done at Christmas, and the staff looked forward to having their own chance to relax and dance in the splendor of the great hall of the Abbey. Mr. Carson's mood was almost cheerful as the day of the ball drew near, but when he awoke on the morning of January twelfth, he was battling a certain irritability that he could not explain. Mrs. Hughes noticed his mood as soon as he came downstairs and she tried to find out what was wrong, but he was either unwilling or unable to tell her anything. She had a feeling Thomas and William were in for a difficult day. At least they had the ball to look forward to later. Without knowing what was the matter with Mr. Carson, she couldn't be much help to the footmen, so she turned her attention to Daisy and the other kitchen maids. For quite some time, Mrs. Patmore's temper had been short, but since last year's incident with the salty pudding, Mrs. Hughes had to comfort a weeping kitchen maid more days than not. She felt a great deal of sympathy for Mrs. Patmore, but she didn't know how much longer the kitchen could function properly with the cook in such a constant state of aggravation. When the girls were frightened to the point of tears, their work suffered, which in turn irritated Mrs. Patmore further; the whole situation was a vicious circle of inefficiency and unpleasantness. Mrs. Hughes wished there was something further she could do, but without challenging the cook's authority, there was little help she could offer besides drying the tears of agitated kitchen maids.

The day passed fairly quickly for Mrs. Hughes and before she knew it, the time had come to go up to her room and get ready for the ball. She had trimmed an old evening dress with some ribbon and altered the sleeves. It looked more festive than her current evening dress. The most important part of her ensemble, however, was the beautiful comb Mr. Carson had given her for Christmas. She restyled her hair and nestled the comb into the low bun she had created. Mrs. Hughes was pleased with how it looked and made her way back downstairs to see if everything was ready for the party to start. Seeing that most of the food had already been taken up to the hall, she went upstairs. The family were beginning to come down and the staff, under Mr. Carson's direction, were putting the finishing touches on the laying out of the food and punch.

Mrs. Hughes approached the butler. "It looks like you've got everything under control."

Mr. Carson was a little startled; he hadn't seen her coming. When he looked at her, though, he was momentarily struck speechless. "You look beautiful," he murmured eventually.

She looked around to make sure no one could hear them. "Take care, Mr. Carson!" she warned him. "Someone might hear you."

He blushed faintly, then frowned. "I suppose the dancing will begin soon."

"Yes, I think so," Mrs. Hughes answered. "I suppose I should make it easy for his lordship."

"What do you mean?"

"No doubt he's in the library fortifying himself for this evening's festivities," she explained. "I'll wait near the library door so he doesn't have a hard time finding me when he's ready."

Mrs. Hughes made her way to the other side of the room. Mr. Carson followed her with his eyes and, just as she'd predicted, Lord Grantham emerged from the library, accompanied by Mr. Crawley. Mr. Carson hurried to find Lady Grantham and ask her for the first dance, just as her husband offered himself as a partner for Mrs. Hughes. The first waltz began with the two couples - the lord and lady of the estate and, essentially, the lord and lady of the Abbey's downstairs domain. After a minute or two, other couples joined in.

Mr. Carson wanted to be doing anything but making small talk with Lady Grantham, but he did his duty, hopefully not boring her with compliments on her part in the planning of the servants' ball and tame village gossip. She was a pleasant woman and was adequately entertained by his efforts; she returned the favor by speaking of the staff and such topics as she thought he might find interesting. He couldn't quite prevent his glance from wandering a few times, his eyes seeking the only person in the room that consumed all his thoughts.

Mrs. Hughes could feel his eyes on her, as she danced with Lord Grantham and when she moved to the perimeter of the room. Mr. Carson danced more than just the first, but he was equally distracted from each of his partners. Mrs. Crawley noticed, but chose not to ask him about his evident fascination with the housekeeper. The dowager countess found his abstraction irritating, but she noticed only that the butler's attention was not focused on her. She did not look to see where Mr. Carson's frowning eyes invariably stopped. Mrs. Hughes laughed to herself when the dowager called him on the carpet and he tried to account for himself. She hadn't seen him so flustered in front of a member of the family in a long time.

After he had escaped the older woman's questioning, Mr. Carson felt he had danced as much as was required and he made his way to Mrs. Hughes's side.

"What's got into you today, Mr. Carson?" she asked without preamble.

His brows drew together. "What do you mean?"

"You've been in a foul humor all day and it looked just now like you weren't paying attention to your dance partners."

He studied her face, still wearing a dark frown. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he hissed.

Mrs. Hughes looked at him sharply. "Just what do you mean by that?" she asked in clipped tones.

"I can't tell you here."

"Where, then? You had better tell me what I've done to deserve your black looks, and soon."

"Mrs. Hughes, please." Mr. Carson tried to deflect her anger.

"The servery will be empty," she observed. "Meet me there in five minutes."

"Do you mean alone?" he whispered.

Mrs. Hughes only gave him a withering glare and stalked away. Mr. Carson didn't feel he could do anything but take another route to the same destination.

The servery was empty and dark when he arrived. Mrs. Hughes came in very shortly after.

"What's this all about, Mrs. Hughes?" he asked.

"That's _my_ question," she told him. "You've been scowling at me most of the day and distracted from your dance partners, but when I teased you about your inattention, you puffed up and accused me of enjoying something. Well, let me tell you that I'm not enjoying any of this!"

"Mrs. Hughes, I'm sorry," he apologized. "I can explain."

"Please do." She tapped her toe on the floor impatiently. "I'd like to know why one of the few pleasant moments of my day was dancing with his lordship. At least then I had someone polite to talk to."

Mr. Carson huffed and turned from her, but did not move away. "The truth is... I was jealous of his lordship. He gets to dance with you and I don't."

Mrs. Hughes was incredulous. "That's what's had you upset all day? If that _is _the truth, I suggest you go glare at his lordship and leave me in peace."

Now that he'd admitted the reason for his behavior, Mr. Carson was much calmer. "I'm sorry, my dear."

She softened a bit in the face of his sincere contrition, but there was still something on her mind. "Charles, we need to have a very serious talk," she told him.

"What about?"

"If you think about it hard enough you'll see that we can't go on like this."

Mr. Carson sighed. "What should we do?" he wondered.

"We can't talk about it now."

"Tomorrow, then?" he suggested.

"Tomorrow night," she agreed. "Now I'm going back to the hall. Wait a few minutes before you join me." With that, Mrs. Hughes turned on her heel and left Mr. Carson alone in the servery.

_To be continued..._

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	20. Loss

**Warning: Minor (in this story) Character Death. ****Absolutely no Chelsie death.**

**The death itself does not occur in any written scene (like in Greek drama, it happens offstage). There's no blood or gore or a dramatic deathbed scene. Mainly you will just see how the person's death affects all of the other characters. You are welcome to PM me if you'd like to know ahead of time who dies, in case you're worried it might be too upsetting to read.**

The next morning at breakfast, Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes's conversation was rather stilted. They spoke of ordinary things, but their minds were elsewhere. The tension between them was heightened by the anticipation of the discussion they would have later. _We can't go on like this._ Mr. Carson knew she was right. Their plan to wait for retirement to marry was a foolish one. There were other possibilities, each with their drawbacks, but the idea of being married soon was enough to make them all worth it. Having her for his wife would make any trouble easier to bear. Mrs. Hughes was of the same mind. The obstacles that had loomed so large in her mind when they had first formed their engagement no longer seemed insurmountable.

That evening, Mr. Carson rang the dressing gong and went down to his pantry for a few minutes of peace. Mrs. Hughes appeared a few minutes later and though she interrupted his quiet time, he didn't mind. He smiled at her and was about to tell her how lovely she was looking, but she spoke first.

"Mr. Carson, Dr. Clarkson's just arrived."

"What? Why? He wasn't expected for dinner tonight."

"I'm not sure what he's doing here, but William says he's asking for you and me," Mrs. Hughes explained.

Mr. Carson rose from his chair and they hurried into the corridor, where they met Mr. Bates, looking concerned. "Mr. Carson, have you seen his lordship?"

"Not since he left for York this afternoon," Mr. Carson replied. "He must have come in while Thomas or William were answering the front door."

Mr. Bates frowned. "It's not like him to be so late after the gong."

A dreadful idea was forming her mind, but Mrs. Hughes reassured him. "There's a first time for everything, Mr. Bates. I'm sure he'll be along at any moment."

Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes exchanged a quick glance before hurrying up the stairs to meet Dr. Clarkson in the library.

"How can we help, sir?" Mr. Carson asked.

"You may find this strange, Carson, but I need you to gather the family together. Bring them all here to the library."

"They'll be down for dinner in forty minutes or so," Mrs. Hughes told him. "You could speak to them all then."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hughes, but this is urgent. I'm afraid it can't wait."

Mrs. Hughes had an awful feeling that she knew what was about to be revealed and she was sorry for it, but as she went to fetch Lady Grantham and the girls to the library, she found herself more worried about Mr. Carson than about the Crawleys. She followed Mr. Carson into the library as all family present assembled there. She had ordered Miss O'Brien and Anna to wait just outside the library, warning them that there might be bad news, but not explaining further.

Dr. Clarkson had everyone's attention. Mrs. Hughes thought that he must have had to deliver news like this before, but she couldn't imagine that it ever got easier. "There's been an accident," he began. "Just outside the village."

"What do you mean? What kind of accident?" Lady Grantham was on the verge of panic, but tried to keep her composure.

"A car crash," Dr. Clarkson answered. "I'm afraid Lord Grantham's been killed."

The countess let out a shriek and Ladies Mary and Edith on either side of her helped their mother sit down on the sofa. Mrs. Hughes summoned Miss O'Brien to attend Lady Grantham and brought Anna into the room to be on hand if she was needed. The housekeeper was not as personally attached to the family as Mr. Carson was, but she still shed some tears at the sight of the heartbroken widow and her young daughters, trying to take in the news. Mrs. Hughes was glad that Miss O'Brien knew her business so well. She was an unpleasant woman most of the time, but with a bottle of smelling salts, a few extra handkerchiefs, and some soft words, she managed to calm the four ladies down.

Lady Mary looked up from her mother and found Mr. Carson's face. "Has someone sent for Granny, Carson?" she asked. "And Matthew and Isobel? They ought to know."

Dr. Clarkson spoke up. "Mrs. Crawley was at the hospital when Lord Grantham and the chauffeur were brought in, so she already knows. She volunteered to break the news to the dowager countess. Mrs. Crawley is a fine nurse and knows how to deliver news like this delicately.

"What about the chauffeur?" Lady Sybil asked. "Branson - did he survive?"

The doctor nodded. "He was thrown from the car and broke a few bones, but he will be fine." He turned back to Lady Grantham. "Mr. Crawley is at his office in Ripon, but is expected back soon."

"They must all come here," Lady Grantham said brokenly.

"Are you sure, Mama?" Lady Mary asked. "Even Matthew? Won't it be… upsetting for you if he comes here so soon?"

The countess dismissed her daughter's concern. "Matthew's not to blame, Mary. And to be honest, I'd like to have a man in the house. And it is... his house now." She dissolved into tears again, embraced by her weeping daughters.

No one witnessing this scene could be unaffected. Mr. Carson, Mrs. Hughes, Miss O'Brien, and Anna had tears in their eyes as they carried out their duties. The butler and housekeeper stepped out of the library to make plans for the evening. Dinner would not be served in the dining room today, but on trays. The needs of the ladies might be unpredictable, but given the circumstances, one could hardly blame them. After their discussion of dinner, Mr. Carson went back into the library to be on hand if he was needed and Mrs. Hughes went downstairs to break the news to the rest of the staff and to give Mrs. Patmore her new instructions. When the staff met for their own evening meal, no one spoke. The room was silent but for the sounds of cutlery against dishes.

After everyone else was in bed, Mrs. Hughes made her way quietly to Mr. Carson's pantry. A dim pool of light shone on the floor in the corridor from under the closed door. She turned the knob and entered, uncertain what she would find. She closed the door and leaned back against it, observing him carefully. He was seated in his desk chair, staring into space. His eyes were dry, but very troubled, as though he carried the burdens of a dozen men on his shoulders. Mrs. Hughes couldn't help approaching him, though she wasn't sure what to do right away. After standing beside him for a little while, she laid a hand on his shoulder. He seemed to return to the present moment and looked into her face with all the grief he couldn't speak. In an instant, she pulled him to her, letting his head rest against her breast. He hesitated only a moment before wrapping his arms around her middle and pulling her close. Mrs. Hughes could feel hot tears soaking through the front of her dress and her corset. She shed some tears herself. It was by far the most physical intimacy they had ever shared, but it was no passionate embrace. It was simply the mutual comfort of two grieving people who love one another.

Neither could have said how long they remained holding each other like this - Mr. Carson seated and Mrs. Hughes standing - but eventually, in her weariness, she started to sag in his arms. It seemed to him the most natural thing in the world to encourage her to sit on his lap. The atmosphere was calm and a little surreal, so the usual hesitancy and doubts were absent. Mrs. Hughes sat across his thighs and rested her head on his shoulder. His warmth and breath and strong heartbeat reassured her.

"Elsie," he breathed.

"Charles."

"What are we going to do?" Mr. Carson asked her.

"In the long term, I think it might be best left to talk about tomorrow," Mrs. Hughes suggested.

"And in the short term?"

She blushed. "There's something I've been wanting to do for some time now, but it wasn't right."

"But you think it's all right now?" he replied hopefully.

She nodded. "Our plans are changing." Mrs. Hughes sat up so she could look into his eyes. She was still for a second or two and then raised her hand to caress his face, but Mr. Carson took the lead from her and kissed her lips before she could do anything else. Her heart raced and her breathing accelerated, but her mouth seemed to know just what to do. She was overwhelmed by the sensations she was experiencing; feelings that had been suppressed for months were now given free rein, for these few moments at least. When they broke the kiss, Mrs. Hughes pulled herself even closer to him, resting her cheek against his and wrapping her arms tightly around him.

"I love you, my darling," she whispered.

"I love you, too," Mr. Carson replied. "And we will be married. Soon. We'll find a way."

_To be continued…_

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	21. A New Plan

The next day the house was in full mourning. The kitchen was on alert to be ready for anything, though the servants still took their meals at the usual times. The dowager countess had gone back to the dower house after breakfast, but the new Lord Grantham and his mother remained at the Abbey. Mrs. Crawley made herself useful comforting Lady Grantham in particular. She had been widowed years ago and she had loved her husband very much. She knew that the countess's marriage to the late earl had been an affectionate one, so she understood the pain that lady was suffering. There wasn't much to be said, but Lady Grantham was grateful for Mrs. Crawley's sympathy and understanding. She knew that the other woman truly understood her grief, which was a relief to her. Her daughters visited her and each other intermittently throughout the day. Lord Grantham made it clear that he was at their disposal and took some time to meet with Mr. Carson to learn a little about how things worked at Downton Abbey from day to day. He also planned to meet with the estate agent, but that could wait for a while. His task now was to do what he could to make the ladies comfortable. His own grief was more private, and having employment in the house made things easier. When he was alone he felt it more sharply, but he knew the sadness would dull with time. He remembered when his own father had died and how difficult it had been. He would not have managed as well without his mother. The late earl was not his father so it wasn't the same situation, but they had developed a sort of father-son relationship since they'd met last fall. Lord Grantham was glad his predecessor had invited him to Downton Abbey last year, to teach him how things worked. If he had inherited the title and the estate without any preparation or knowledge at all, he would be feeling rather overwhelmed. As it was, he knew he was filling large shoes. He hoped he would prove worthy of the task.

#####

At luncheon, Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes were discussing the succession. "How was your meeting with Mr. Matthew?" Mrs. Hughes asked, before correcting herself. "That is, his lordship."

"I think it went well," Mr. Carson replied. "Better than I expected, in fact. He's a clever chap, and I can't help admiring his desire to run this house well and to take care of the ladies in their grief."

"What a testimonial," she remarked. She might have laughed as she teased him, but it didn't seem right.

"He even told me he plans to keep Mr. Bates on as his own valet, if he wishes to stay."

"That is very generous," Mrs. Hughes replied. "I'd be surprised if Mr. Bates chose to leave."

"So would I. He'll not easily find a place as good as the one he's got."

"But he must be grieving himself. And so must his lordship."

"I believe he is, though he knew his late lordship for less than half a year, which may be an ideal situation, under the circumstances," he told her. "He knows something of how the house works and he understands their grief to some degree, but he is not so overcome that he cannot do what needs to be done."

"Mr. Murray will be here soon, I presume?"

"Next week, I believe. There are things that must be arranged, but you don't want to rush the family after a tragedy like this."

Mrs. Hughes nodded. "Yes, I agree."

"And are we also agreed on meeting again tonight? Since our discussion did not occur as planned?"

She smiled and lowered her voice. "Yes, this time we will talk more than we did last night."

"Thank you for what you did last night," he whispered. "You were just what I needed."

"I'm glad. Now stop making me blush and eat your stew," she scolded lightly.

Mr. Carson chuckled and returned to his meal.

#####

The appointed hour came. The family was asleep. The staff had all gone to bed. Mr. Carson had brought sherry to the housekeeper's sitting room and was pouring two glasses. Mrs. Hughes shut the door and they sat down with their drinks. They drank in silence for a little while, each wondering who would begin the conversation. At last Mrs. Hughes spoke.

"So… we are going to get married."

"Yes."

"Have you thought about how?"

"I have," he admitted. "I've been thinking of it for weeks, if I'm honest. I was still trying to behave properly, but I was starting to think we might have to change our plans."

She nodded. "I've done the same. I think I knew somehow that it wasn't going to work."

"I think there are two options. We can leave Downton, take up employment elsewhere, and marry. The other idea is less attractive to me, but it would mean we could stay at Downton."

"Marry secretly, you mean?"

"Yes," he replied. "It seems dishonorable somehow to keep such a thing a secret. I feel like we would be committing a dishonest act every single day."

Mrs. Hughes disliked the idea for different reasons. "I don't know about all that, but I don't like the idea of hiding it, as though we're doing something wrong. As though we're ashamed of ourselves."

Mr. Carson looked into her eyes. "When nothing could be farther from the truth."

She smiled and shook her head. "I could never be ashamed of you, or of loving you."

"Suppose we leave Downton, then," he conjectured. "I doubt there would be a job for me in the village, but I could probably find work in Ripon or Thirsk, even York if it were necessary."

"And I'm sure I could find a job serving tea or sewing at a tailor's shop," she remarked.

"It may not be necessary for you to work, my dear," Mr. Carson said.

Mrs. Hughes looked at him as though he were mad. "Not work? What am I to do, then? Just stay home all day?"

"I'd like to feel like I could support my wife," he told her. "I'm sure you could find things to do. Run errands, take up gardening, join the church choir, see your friends. And of course I wouldn't be away from home _all_ the time."

She softened a little, but was still skeptical. "I suppose it's _possible_, but it would take some getting used to."

"I want you to be happy, Elsie," he assured her. "If it really made you unhappy not to work, I would never try to stop you."

"Thank you for that, Charles." Mrs. Hughes frowned. "Is it all right for me to call you that?" she asked.

"Of course it is. We're going to be married. You needn't call me Mr. Carson anymore."

"No, I mean, would you like to be called 'Charles' or 'Charlie'? I know you were Charlie when you were younger."

"Ah, I see what you mean." Mr. Carson gave it a thought. "I haven't been Charlie in a long time. When I entered service I became Charles."

"Then Charles it is," she replied.

"I feel more like Charles than Charlie. But I believe _you_ may call me anything you like."

She tilted her head to one side, her eyes twinkling. "Perhaps I'll save Charlie just for special occasions," she remarked.

He chuckled. "As you like."

"So are we decided, then?" Mrs. Hughes asked. "Leave Downton and get married?"

"I'm not sure." Mr. Carson looked uneasy.

"About what?"

"You're not going to like what I have to say."

She raised her eyebrows. "Oh dear."

"I feel it would be wrong somehow to leave Downton Abbey just now."

"What are you telling me, Charles?" Mrs. Hughes wanted to know. "You're not going back on our agreement, I hope." She had been so certain of him for so long, but now she felt her influence with him slipping in favor of the Crawley family. She looked away from him, biting her lip and trying to fight back tears.

"I never would, Elsie. But it makes me think perhaps we should consider a secret marriage. We wouldn't have to stay on for a very long time. Just until things settle down a bit."

Mrs. Hughes took a deep, shaking breath. "And how long will that be? Will you set a date for our leaving or will it be an open-ended arrangement?"

"Elsie, I-"

"And when Lady Mary Crawley crooks her little finger, will you change our plans?" she interrupted.

"Elsie, please!" he entreated her, rising from his chair to stand in front of her. "Calm down," he suggested, taking her hands. "I'm not going to throw you over for Lady Mary or anyone else; you can be certain of that."

"I want to believe you, Charles," Mrs. Hughes murmured.

"Then believe me," he urged her. "I love you and I want us to be married as soon as we can. We can set a limit right here and now for how long we will stay. Six months? Three months? A fortnight? I'd _like_ to show some consideration to the family, but they're not more important to me than you are."

She began to smile again. Mr. Carson let go of her hands so he could wipe away her tears with his thumbs. "All right. We'll be married in secret. At the Register Office in Ripon?"

He nodded. "I think that would be best."

"Why don't you go make an appointment the next chance you have?"

"I'll do it."

"Once we know how soon we'll be married, we can set a time for our departure from Downton."

Mr. Carson smiled. "That sounds like an excellent plan."

"I will be reasonable, Charles," Mrs. Hughes assured him. "I don't criticize your desire to be sensitive to their needs. I only feared that I might fall back into second place again."

He frowned and pulled a chair up so he could face her and take her hands in his once more. "I don't understand. What do you mean 'again,' Elsie?"

"You told me once that the Crawleys were the only family you had," she explained. "I didn't take it personally; I didn't love you then, or at least not as I do now. But it was clear that you held them more dear than anyone else in your life. I'm not sure exactly when I supplanted them, but I felt sure that I had."

"You did," he told her emphatically. "Once and for all, you will always come before them."

"Thank you for reminding me," Mrs. Hughes murmured. "The night of the servants' ball, I knew things would be different - that we would be married soon. I suppose I panicked when you spoke of a delay. My heart's desire seemed to have been put into my hand and then almost immediately snatched away."

"Never," Mr. Carson whispered.

"Kiss me?" Her appeal was a simple one.

He pulled her with him as he stood up from his chair. He bent and touched his lips to hers, starting the kiss soft and gradually pressing his lips harder against hers. Before long, her arms had moved up his chest and around his neck and he had pulled her close with his arms wrapped around her waist. She met the demands of his lips and tongue, even challenging him to kiss her more deeply. She eventually pushed him into a chair and sat in his lap, so she could kiss him without craning her neck. Finally, they both had to pause for breath.

"Oh my," Mrs. Hughes breathed.

"I'll go to the Register Office tomorrow," Mr. Carson promised.

"I think you'd better," she agreed.

"I love you so much."

She answered him with another kiss.

_To be continued…_

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	22. An Appointment

**Thank you all for your support and for sticking with me!**

Mrs. Hughes was on pins and needles while Mr. Carson was in Ripon securing an appointment for their wedding. He had left after serving luncheon and would be back to serve dinner. She wasn't quite sure what she was nervous about. Was she afraid that the wedding day would be too far off or too soon? She would have said that she'd marry Mr. Carson today if she could, but now that the possibility of marrying him very soon was so real, it made her a little nervous. However, she was not only nervous, but also excited about the new life she was about to start. Some parts of it would be exactly the same as her life had been for the last ten years and some parts of it would be completely new. It would be an adventure.

#####

Mr. Carson climbed aboard the bus that would take him back from Ripon to Downton. He feared he might be late for dinner. The Register Office had been busy today and it had taken him much longer than he expected to complete his business. He _had_ completed it, though. He had a date and time set for his wedding to Elsie Hughes. He didn't think she would be happy when she learned how long they would have to wait; he was none too pleased himself. But there was nothing to be done. The next available appointment was six weeks away. He was mildly amused when he thought about how their original plans had involved waiting years to be married, but now that they had discarded the idea of waiting for retirement, six weeks seemed an eternity.

#####

They drank wine that night as they discussed their wedding. Naturally, Mrs. Hughes was disappointed that they would have to wait so long; a church wedding would require only a three-week delay. However, it was beyond her control, and his. They did have to decide how they would get away from the house on the wedding day. It went without saying that they would not leave together. Mr. Carson planned to get away after serving the family breakfast. Mrs. Hughes would find it easier to escape the house earlier than that without being noticed. If she skipped her rounds that morning, none of her maids would know she was missing. Each would assume that she was checking on all the others. And she knew she could trust Anna to cast a quick eye over things and to catch anything too far out of line. They would not need to bring anyone into their confidence and each knew how they would answer if asked upon their return where they had gone. It was possible that something could go wrong, but nothing catastrophic. They could offer a variety of reasonable excuses for an unexpected absence. The bus might have been late, the shops in Ripon or Thirsk were unusually busy, or one or the other of them ran into an old acquaintance and missed the bus by only a few minutes.

"Well," Mrs. Hughes said, after they had run through these details. "It's really happening." She held out her hand to Mr. Carson, who sat facing her, their knees touching.

He smiled back at her and took her hand. "Yes, it is. At last. Have you thought about how long you want to stay at Downton after we're married?"

She nodded. "I have. What if we agree that we will leave six months from today? We'll be married and then stay on for four and a half months after that. We can give a month's notice, or even two. But it is absolutely out of the question for you to go to London for the season and leave me here."

"That sounds more than fair," he agreed, then chuckled. "I can't believe I ever considered leaving you for the season. I suppose I must have thought it would be just like all past Seasons when I left you behind for several months in the Metropolis. What a fool I was."

"We were both very foolish," Mrs. Hughes conceded with a smile. "But that is all behind us. Anyway, with the family in mourning, won't they be forgoing the Season?"

"I would think so," Mr. Carson replied. "Obviously it's too soon for me to ask her ladyship about it, but I doubt they will travel to London this year."

"Poor Lady Sybil," she sympathized. "She's lost her father _and_ her coming out will have to be delayed."

"I almost feel wrong for being so happy myself, when the family has suffered such tragedy."

"You shouldn't feel wrong," Mrs. Hughes told him. "Your happiness hasn't come at their expense."

He nodded. "That's true. And I don't feel the tragedy any less for being happy myself."

"If I'm honest, the whole thing has just confirmed my feeling that we shouldn't wait. You never know what will happen. Nothing in life is sure."

Mr. Carson tugged at Mrs. Hughes's hand and she willingly came to rest on his lap. "I love you, my dear," he whispered.

She sighed contentedly. "And I love you."

His hand slid up her back and his fingers laced through her hair, pulling her closer. They kissed, restraining themselves at first to the touch of lips upon lips, but such gentle caresses could not satisfy the lovers for long. None of their movements were sudden or quick, but it wasn't long before their kisses had gone from chaste to deeply passionate. Their tongues met in a heated contest with an unknown goal and it became more and more difficult to determine where one body ended and the other began. Mr. Carson kissed his way from the corner of her mouth to her jaw and continued down her neck. Mrs. Hughes sighed and nibbled at his earlobe, overwhelmed once more by what she felt and all that she wanted. Even more surprising was the certainty of being wanted; it was the newest sensation of all. It both gratified and tormented her; she had never felt so beautiful, but she wanted more than she could have. There would be a day when they would be married and exchange yearning for bliss, but that day had not yet arrived. Mrs. Hughes drew away from Mr. Carson and he did not try to pull her back. He knew as well as she did that they would spend the next six weeks attempting to practice moderation, reserve, and self-discipline. In the end, it would all be worthwhile.

Tonight they knew they were the last two downstairs and were quite alone, so when they reached the point in the corridor where they went their separate ways, Mr. Carson offered his hand and Mrs. Hughes took it. They paused for a few moments, she squeezed his hand and he kissed hers, and then they separated for the night.

_To be continued..._

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	23. Circle of Gold

Mr. Carson had to search his whole room before he found it. He was beginning to fear that he had lost it somehow when he ran across it by accident. The small box of treasures had been stored in the back of his wardrobe for so long he had almost forgotten it was there. He was changing from his morning coat into his white tie and tails when he saw it. He picked it up and sat down on his bed with it, carefully removing the lid and setting it on the bed next to him. Mr. Carson's first glance into the box jarred him a bit, for staring back at him was an old photo of Alice Neal. He had asked her to have one taken for him after they'd begun speaking in earnest about a possible future together, and she had happily complied. He set Alice's photo aside and easily found what he was looking for - a small wooden box. He opened it, took out a knotted handkerchief, and untied the knots. His mother's wedding ring, a simple band of gold, was revealed from its hiding place in the threadbare square of fabric. Mr. Carson set the box aside and went to a drawer for a new handkerchief in which to wrap this treasure. He tucked it into his waistcoat pocket for later, closed up the box, and placed it back where he had found it. The momentary glimpse he caught of Alice's picture just as he closed the box made him wonder. What if he had worked up the courage to put his mother's ring on her finger sooner? What if he had asked for Alice's hand in marriage rather than for a photograph? Would she have married him? Would they have been happy? Mr. Carson felt no strong need to know the answers to these questions. Alice was irrelevant to his life now. When he was first coming to terms with his altered feelings for both Alice and Mrs. Hughes, he did not try to decide if one were better than the other. Alice was in the past and Mrs. Hughes was his present and future. Now, however, memories of Alice grew more distant every day and he was even _glad_ that she had broken his heart so that he could one day find Elsie Hughes. Even when he looked honestly at Mrs. Hughes with her flaws and faults, he could not properly express how superior in his eyes she was even to his most unrealistically perfect visions of Alice.

Mr. Carson finished dressing for the evening and went downstairs. The family's routine had begun to normalize. Lady Grantham sometimes found herself unable to face dining with the family and asked for dinner on a tray in her room once or twice a week, but the others ate each meal together. It seemed to Mr. Carson that resuming their regular dining habits was a great step for them all in beginning to learn how to live without the late earl. Lord Grantham impressed Mr. Carson with how gracefully he had assumed his new position - with humility and a quiet strength. The butler could see the young man as capable, with time and experience, of being a worthy successor to Robert Crawley.

#####

"I've got something to show you," Mr. Carson said as he handed Mrs. Hughes her glass of sherry that evening.

Her eyebrows rose. "Something good, I hope."

"Yes, something good." He frowned, taking his seat. "At least I hope _you_ will think it is good."

"Well?" she prompted him. "What is it?"

Mr. Carson pulled the knotted handkerchief from his pocket. He untied it and plucked up the small golden band. "It's very simple, but I'd like you to wear my mother's wedding ring."

Mrs. Hughes smiled. "How lovely! I'm very honored."

"I wasn't going to show it to you before our wedding day, but then I worried that it might not fit your finger, so I'd like you to try it now."

"Of course," she breathed. She held out her right hand, palm up, to take the ring from him, but he ignored it, instead taking her left hand in his. Mr. Carson looked into her eyes as he slid the gold band onto her finger. Mrs. Hughes held her breath, returning his gaze, and they were both still for a little while, thinking of the day when he would put the ring on her finger as a symbol of his love for her and his commitment to her health and happiness. He released her hand and she looked down at the ring. "It's beautiful," she told him, and it was true. The band was simple, but that was all she wanted, and looking at it on her own hand made everything feel more real. She would be Mrs. Carson soon. She had never thought to be married at her age; she had believed she had left that all behind once she had turned down Joe's second proposal. But now here she was, madly in love, and about to get married. Happy tears gathered in her eyes, though none fell.

"Does it fit all right?" asked an anxious Mr. Carson.

"It fits perfectly."

"And you like it?"

"I love it." She looked back at the ring on her finger. "But I think I had better take it off now or I may never remove it." Reluctantly, she slid the band off of her finger and handed it back to Mr. Carson. He tied it up carefully in the handkerchief and put it back in his pocket.

They sipped their sherry in silence for a few minutes. "Charles, there's something I'd like to talk to you about."

"What is it Elsie?"

"I hardly know how to say it."

"I can be patient," Mr. Carson assured her. "Take as long as you like."

"Thank you." Mrs. Hughes took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I've been thinking about our wedding day. We're planning to marry in Ripon and return to work after that."

"Yes."

"Most couples don't go right back to work on their wedding day."

"Most couples aren't marrying in secret," Mr. Carson pointed out.

"I know that," she said, sighing. "And I know that we can't have a proper honeymoon, but we might be able to plan a special night."

He coughed and a flush crept over his face. "Do you have any... ideas, Elsie?"

"Yes, one idea. I think we should wait until it's very late and then go into one of the upstairs bedrooms that never gets used."

Mr. Carson was shocked. "Use one of the upstairs rooms? Are you mad?"

"No one would ever find out, Charles."

"Just because no one found out doesn't make it right."

Mrs. Hughes found his attitude frustrating. "Do you really think it would be so terribly wrong?"

"Yes, I do!" he argued. "We're servants, Elsie. We have no business doing _anything_ in the upstairs rooms, much less doing… _that._"

"Very well," she said, a challenge in her eye. "I suppose your desk will have to do. Or perhaps just the wall." Mrs. Hughes could hardly believe her own boldness, but she was irritated.

"No," he replied emphatically. "We must do it correctly the first time, in a proper bed." Mr. Carson also could not believe he was speaking so frankly about such a subject, but he felt he had no choice.

"Then what do you suggest?" she wanted to know. "Your room, perhaps, or mine?"

"We must go away from here," he told her.

"Away? Where?"

"It doesn't matter where," he replied. "You'll tell her ladyship that you have to visit your sick cousin or something like that. Then I'll find some way to be called away by a similar emergency. We'll meet somewhere far enough from here that we won't be known."

Mrs. Hughes was skeptical. "Do you really think we can pull that off? What if I leave, but you fail to get away? Then I'll have spent time and money sitting alone for several days in some inn or hotel."

"I really think it's the only way."

"Because spending one night in an unused room is so... disgraceful?"

"Yes," he answered. "It's not right. Imagine if anyone ever found out. And even if no one finds out, it would make us a pair of hypocrites, lecturing our charges about just the things we are doing."

"A pair of hypocrites?" Mrs. Hughes's voice was suddenly quiet. "We'll be _married_, Charles."

"Well, yes, but-"

"You make it all sound filthy and deceitful." She was very angry, but she also felt deeply hurt. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. I know how you feel about this secret marriage."

"It's certainly not ideal, but-"

"It's not ideal, nor is it honorable, in your view."

"Elsie, you're not being fair."

Mrs. Hughes stood up from her chair. "I love you, Charles, and I want to marry you," she told him. "But if you find the whole business so disgusting, perhaps you should consider cancelling that appointment with the registrar."

"Elsie, please." Mr. Carson reached for her hand, but she pulled it from his grasp.

"I can't listen anymore. Good night Mr. Carson." She swiftly left the room and hurried upstairs to her bedroom. Once the door was shut and she was changing into her nightgown, Mrs. Hughes was crying in earnest. She couldn't think what had possessed her to speak as she had. Certainly she could have expressed her anger and hurt in less extreme terms. Why had she spoken so unkindly to the person more dear to her than anyone else in the world? She tossed and turned for at least an hour before she fell into a disturbed sleep.

Mr. Carson didn't stay in his pantry for more than a minute or two after she left. He went upstairs, wondering how the evening had started so well and gone so terribly wrong. He suffered an equally miserable night.

_To be continued..._

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	24. Peace and a Gift

The next afternoon, Mr. Carson left the house without telling Mrs. Hughes. He'd left a note in her sitting room, but she wasn't likely to find it for several hours. If he were lucky, he would return before she knew he was gone, but he suspected his errand would take a little too long for that. If nothing else, he would be home for dinner and he hoped he and Mrs. Hughes could make peace that evening. He had said some things he regretted and he suspected she had, too. That morning she had looked very tired and things had been tense between them, though not hostile. She did not avoid his eyes, but the smile she gave him was very slight. Even this gave him hope, however, since she did not seem angry. She didn't always agree with him, but most of the time she understood him, and if he apologized, she would never be unkind. Even when they were at odds, he knew her value, and she knew his.  
Mr. Carson's one errand in Ripon was a pleasant one. He knew exactly the shop he would be visiting, but he suspected he might dither a bit, worried about making the right decision on what to purchase. However, in the end it didn't take much time at all. He looked at everything on offer, but the right choice was clear and he was on his way back to Downton Abbey shortly.

#####

_Dear Elsie,_

_I've gone to Ripon on what I hope will be a brief errand and will be back in time for upstairs dinner at the very latest. I will tell you about it later this evening, when I hope you will meet with me over a glass of sherry. I think we have some things to talk about. Even when we don't, I look forward to seeing your lovely face every evening. I hope I can make you smile. I do love you dearly._

_Yours,_

_Charles_

#####

Just as Mr. Carson had suspected, Mrs. Hughes did not receive his note until he had been gone for a few hours. It made her smile, however, and she was hopeful that they would soon be reconciled. She had said some hurtful things to him last night and she knew she needed to apologize. Some of the tension in her shoulders drained away when she read his note. She tucked it into her pocket and sat down to work on her ledgers. Their conversation tonight might be uncomfortable, but all would be well in the end. Now she could concentrate on her work.

#####

Mr. Carson handed Mrs. Hughes her glass, poured his own, and sat down across from her. He dared to pull his chair closer to her, as he normally did. Their knees touched slightly and she made no objection.  
Mrs. Hughes was the first to speak. "Charles, I'm very sorry for the way I spoke to you last night. I can't think what came over me."  
He shook his head. "You're forgiven, Elsie, but I behaved badly myself. I hope you will accept my apology."  
She smiled fondly. "Of course." She reached out for him and he took her hand. "I think you and I have both been very tense lately."

"You're right about that. It's been a bit mad around here with the family's loss-"

"And making our wedding plans at the same time," she put in. "It's a lot to think about all at once, on top of keeping the house running."

"We do still need to talk about…" Mr. Carson floundered, searching for the right words."

"About whether to stay or to go," she finished for him.

"Yes."

"Charles, I would prefer to go away, if we could, but I just don't think it's very practical."

"You may be right," he admitted.

"There are many ways your plan could go wrong, but I don't think our chances of getting caught in the house are very high."

Mr. Carson looked uncomfortable. "Do you really think so?"

"I do," she responded. "We know the ways of this house better than anyone, Charles. We know how best to make sure the family is not inconvenienced and the staff notice nothing awry."

He nodded and tilted his head, giving her a little smile. "I do wish I could give you a proper honeymoon."

"Maybe you _can_ someday," she suggested. "Once we've left Downton, perhaps we could take a little trip. Just a few days away from everyday life."

"That sounds marvelous, Elsie," he replied. "I think we will."

"Now will you tell me about the mysterious errand that took you to Ripon today?"

"Yes, I will." Mr. Carson reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a small box. "I have a gift for you."

Mrs. Hughes was a little surprised. "A gift? For me? You've already given me your mother's ring."

"Yes, I have," he agreed. "But I'd like you to wear it every day once we're married. I know you won't be able to wear it on your finger while we're still at Downton, so I got you this." He opened the box and showed her a simple gold chain. "You can wear the ring around your neck with this."

"Oh, Charles, it's beautiful," she breathed, as he put it in her hand.

"Some of the others were finer, but I thought they might be too delicate for a day's work."

"Quite right," she told him. "This is perfect."

"That gift you can keep now. You won't have to wait until our wedding day to wear it."

Mrs. Hughes clasped the necklace around her neck and tucked it under the neckline of her dress. She was pleased that she would be able to wear the ring without giving their secret away. "I'll wear it every day."

Mr. Carson smiled. "Elsie, you make me very happy," he murmured.

Mrs. Hughes got up from her chair and sat on his lap, resting her head against his chest. "You make me happy, too."

"Not long now. We'll be married before you know it."

"It seems like forever," she sighed.

"How about a kiss to tide you over?" he rumbled.

"Just one?" she teased.

"As many as you like," he whispered against her lips.

_To be continued…_

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	25. The Five Senses

"Six o'clock!"

Mrs. Hughes was still in bed when Daisy's knock sounded on her door, but she was not asleep. She got up and prepared quickly for the day ahead; there was a chill in the air and she was anxious to get dressed. Her heels clicked on the floor as she made her way down the corridor and to the stairs. The ground floor was barely warmer than her bedroom; Daisy had built most of the fires, but their warmth had not yet filled the rooms. She hurried the maids along as usual, and was satisfied enough with their progress to leave them on their own and disappear behind the green baize door. The temperature warmed as she descended the stairs and neared the kitchen. Between her heavy gown and the heat of the stove and oven, Mrs. Hughes was comfortable by the time she reached her seat at the table. She was a little early, but not enough that she had time to go to her sitting room and get any work done, so she simply waited as the other servants trickled into the room for breakfast.

The last to arrive was Mr. Carson, who quickly seated the staff. He smiled briefly at Mrs. Hughes before he busied himself with his toast and tea. He seemed to radiate warmth which made her feel almost cozy on this frosty morning. She fixed her own toast and tea and stole quick glances at Mr. Carson. He wasn't looking at her, but his confident movements made her smile. He was calmly giving orders for the day and trying not to let his irritation at Miss O'Brien's conversation become too apparent - nothing extraordinary - but Mrs. Hughes still found him irresistible to look at and eventually he _did_ glance her way and catch her eye. He raised an eyebrow slightly and one corner of his mouth turned up almost imperceptibly. Mrs. Hughes felt her face heat and she bit her lip to conceal her answering smile. Mr. Carson looked away from her, returning to his breakfast, but she now felt almost uncomfortably hot. _How in the world does he do that?_ she wondered. He hadn't touched her - had barely looked at her - and she was flustered and blushing. Mrs. Hughes resisted the inclination to tug at the high neck of her morning gown and tried to concentrate on eating her own breakfast. When she finished, she waited a few minutes for Mr. Carson to dismiss everyone and then rose from her seat. He stood by his chair, allowing her to pass, but he started out of the room behind her a little too soon and his hand brushed against her hip. Mrs. Hughes hurried to her sitting room, closed the door, and sat down at her desk.

She picked up a neat stack of receipts and flipped through them, but she could not focus on what was written on them. All she could think of was Mr. Carson and how glad she was that he had not spoken to her or - God forbid - touched her, while they sat at the breakfast table. That accidental brush of his hand on the way out of the servants' hall had been enough to discompose her completely. She wondered if it had really been an accident or if he was trying to agitate her. Whether he was trying or not, he had certainly succeeded. And now, without even trying, she could pick his steps out of the crowd of servants walking up and down the passage. He walked a few steps, gave a brief order to someone out there, and then entered the pantry, though he did not close the door behind him. Mrs. Hughes sat back in her chair with a sigh, her lips curling into a rueful smile. What a muddle she was in. She was going to have to get control of herself or she would not be able to do her job properly. All of this distraction and breathless agitation simply would not do.

#####

Mr. Carson was amazed at his own composure at breakfast. As usual, when he entered the servants' hall, his eyes were immediately drawn to Mrs. Hughes, but her attention was elsewhere and he forced himself to look away. He glanced her way very few times, but he was acutely aware of her presence and her closeness anyway. His ear caught the lovely, lilting tones of her voice, even in a crowd, but what intoxicated him most this morning was her scent. Mr. Carson could not describe it, for it was not one simple fragrance, but a combination of many. Perfume, bath soap, furniture polish, starch? He had no idea which of these, if any, was blending with her own unique scent to make his head spin. He did, at last, catch her eye by accident, and his slight smile seemed to ruffle Mrs. Hughes quite a bit. She blushed, avoiding his eyes, and once more Mr. Carson had to look away. She was beautiful to him under any circumstances, but when she tried to hide her smile, with that rosy flush gracing her face, she was utterly bewitching and he knew she would draw him in without trying or even knowing she was doing it. He must remain professional.

When Mr. Carson dismissed the staff from breakfast, he stood back to allow Mrs. Hughes to precede him into the corridor. He followed her closely out the door and his hand brushed her hip accidentally. _Accidentally?_ he wondered. _Or was it purposeful?_ Well, there was no point in considering that question. He watched Mrs. Hughes go to her sitting room and close the door and then moved his attention to his work. Mr. Carson gave a few orders, went into his pantry, and sat down at his desk. His door was half open, so he had to maintain his stern façade when he felt as though he were running mad. All of his senses were alive to her, even when they weren't in the same room, but when they were it was infinitely worse. He didn't know how he would get any work done.

#####

Mrs. Hughes searched every room downstairs and once she had satisfied herself that everyone else had gone, she turned off all the lights except the one that would keep the corridor dimly lit until she went to bed. She returned to her sitting room, where Mr. Carson was waiting. She hadn't known he was there, but she was not surprised. She closed the door and leaned back against it. Mr. Carson stood in the middle of the room, facing her.

"I missed you today," he murmured.

"I've been here all day," Mrs. Hughes replied, although she understood just what he meant.

"But I can't tell you I love you except when we're alone," he told her. "And I can't touch you."

"You just have to rely on your other senses, Charles." She smiled.

"I know," he agreed, stepping gradually closer to her as he spoke. "My eyes tell me that you are beautiful. My ears can pick your musical voice out of the clamor at the breakfast table. And if I am lucky enough to be close to you, your scent intoxicates me."

"That covers sight, hearing, and smell." Mrs. Hughes was breathless. Mr. Carson had come to stand right in front of her, but had not touched her, though she was well within reach.

"That leaves two senses." He reached out and caressed her face, then ran his fingers down her neck, across her shoulder, and down her arm until he was holding her hand.

"Touch," Mrs. Hughes replied.

Mr. Carson looked deeply into her eyes. "And the fifth?"

She didn't want to wait any longer, so she freed her hand from his and tugged his lapels so he would bend to kiss her. He pulled her away from the door and up against his body, returning her kiss with enthusiasm. When at last they broke apart, he touched his forehead to hers.

"Taste," Mrs. Hughes whispered, wrapping her arms around his middle and resting her head on his chest.

#####

There were very few nights when Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes could meet for time alone as they counted down the days until their appointment with the registrar. They occasionally shared a cup of tea during the day, but the door was always open and interruptions were frequent. It had always been this way, but in the last few months the situation had become almost intolerable. They both looked forward to being married and tried not to think about the fact that a secret marriage would not reduce these daily vexations. The only consolation was that when they _did_ find time alone, restraint would no longer be necessary. Would that be enough or would it make the situation more tortuous? There was no way to know until they _were_ married. They had committed to this secret marriage, with all its attendant joys and sorrows, so there wasn't much to be done, aside of striving for patience. One way or another, they would soon be Mr. and Mrs. Carson, and there was comfort in that prospect.

_To be continued..._

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	26. Ripon Register Office

Mrs. Hughes did not regret that she would not have a church wedding, but she wished she could have shared her excitement with someone on her wedding day. She dressed in her uniform - the same striped blue dress that she wore every morning - and went to check the main rooms before the family came down for breakfast. Her stomach quivered as she made her way downstairs for her own breakfast, where she would sit beside the man who would be her husband by dinnertime and try not to behave differently than she did every other morning. It would be difficult, but not impossible. She had spent the last few months hiding her affection from all and sundry; she was certainly capable of doing it for another day. _And for over four months beyond that_, she told herself. She would be glad when her marriage was no longer secret and she could openly acknowledge and love her husband.

Mr. Carson was in a similar state of excitement. When he arrived at the servants' hall for breakfast, Mrs. Hughes was already there and their eyes met immediately. Both tried to suppress smiles, but succeeded only marginally. If any of the staff had caught sight of the butler and housekeeper's smiles, they might wonder what was afoot, but it was doubtful that their suspicions would be anywhere near the truth. As it was no one seemed to notice anything unusual.

Mr. Carson dropped in on Mrs. Hughes in her sitting room after breakfast and closed the door behind him. "Are you sure you don't mind going first?" he asked in a low voice. "I could try to get away early."

"Nonsense," she assured him. "It will be much easier for me to disappear unnoticed. Perhaps if I was worried my groom wouldn't turn up then I'd agree with you, but I have complete faith in him."

He nodded. "I wouldn't miss it. So we'll meet at Miss Josephine's tea shop and then go on to our appointment. Correct?"

"Yes, I can easily poke around in the shops until we meet."

"I'll be there on time, no matter what happens here. I'll find a way to get away."

She reached for his hand and squeezed it. "I'll be waiting," she murmured.

He kissed her cheek and went to leave the room.

"Oh, and Mr. Carson." Mrs. Hughes stopped him at the door. "Don't forget the ring."

He opened the door and chuckled. "Of course not, Mrs. Hughes."

#####

Mrs. Hughes was tired of window shopping well before her appointment at the tea shop with Mr. Carson, so she decided to go early. She knew she wouldn't be able to eat a thing, but she could sit down and try to calm herself. It wouldn't do to lose her composure before she even got to the Register Office, or worse, before Mr. Carson even arrived. Mrs. Hughes took a seat by the window and ordered a pot of tea. She sipped only occasionally and took slow, deep breaths. It helped to calm her somewhat, but with each breath she was reminded of the gold chain she wore under her blouse. She imagined what the ring might feel like on the chain. She had worn the necklace since the day Mr. Carson gave it to her, but the ring she had tried only on her finger. Mrs. Hughes wondered when after the ceremony she should move the ring from her finger to the chain. She thought of many trivial things as well as very important things, and soon all of her thoughts began to crowd her mind, almost overwhelming her. She closed her eyes and took another deep breath, but was surprised by a few soft words spoken in a low tone.

"Excuse me, madam." Mrs. Hughes's eyes flew open to find Mr. Carson standing over her. "Are you quite all right?"

A smile spread over her face. "Charles," she greeted him. "Please do sit down."

He didn't sit immediately and Mrs. Hughes noticed that he was hiding something behind his back. "I will sit, but first I have a little something for the bride." He presented her with a pretty little bouquet of fresh flowers, tied with a ribbon.

"How lovely, Charles. Where in the world did you find these?"

Mr. Carson sat down across from her, looking a little sheepish. "I'm afraid I committed several acts of petty thievery this morning, my dear," he admitted.

"Oh?"

"I took a shortcut through the greenhouses after I left the house," he told her. "The ribbon I filched from Miss O'Brien's things. I hope it doesn't bring us bad luck."

Mrs. Hughes laughed. "Nonsense." She noticed the time showing on the clock. "You're early," she pointed out.

He raised an eyebrow. "So are you."

"I'm so glad you _are _early," she said. "I feel so much more myself when you are with me. I was far from calm when you arrived just now."

"You manage quite calmly every day, Elsie, whether I'm with you or not."

"I suppose you're right on most ordinary days," she conceded. "But it's my wedding day. I'm allowed to be nervous and high-strung, aren't I?"

Mr. Carson smiled. "You're _allowed,_ certainly, but I don't think you could be high-strung even if you wanted to."

"No. But I'll admit to feeling nervous."

"No second thoughts?" he asked.

Mrs. Hughes scoffed, smiling. "As if I could. Any woman who would throw away a chance at being Mrs. Charles Carson is a great fool."

Mr. Carson blushed a little at her compliment. No thought of Alice Neal crossed his mind for even a second. He was only thinking about the woman who would be his wife in just a few hours, whether he deserved her or not. "Well I'm determined to make you my bride, nervous or not," he declared, his eyes twinkling.

"So I should hope," she replied.

#####

Mrs. Hughes had never attended a civil wedding ceremony before, so she wasn't sure how it would differ from a church wedding. In the end it didn't matter. No bride at any sort of wedding had to carefully study and memorize her vows. She simply repeated as she was prompted, her little bouquet clutched in one hand and Mr. Carson's hand in the other. Mr. Carson didn't remember much of what was said, but he didn't think he would ever forget the moment when he slid the cool gold band onto her finger. He did it by feel, his eyes watching her face. She smiled that radiant smile that was only for him, but she also trembled slightly and tears stood in her eyes. Then all of a sudden, the officiator told him he could kiss his bride and he was caught completely off guard. It hadn't occurred to him that he would be asked to kiss his wife in front of strangers. Without even thinking, he looked to her for guidance and she was biting her lip, trying not to laugh. Mr. Carson knew that she was reading his thoughts at that moment, and that she was amused by his confusion and perturbation. She waited patiently for him to kiss her cheek, and he had planned it so until a voice in his head dared him to surprise her with a _real_ kiss at her wedding. He wouldn't be able to kiss her again until they were back at Downton and behind closed doors, after all. They were still in public, so he didn't kiss her the way he did when they were alone, but when his lips met hers firmly, Mr. Carson felt an odd satisfaction when she startled a bit. They signed their names and were on their way, husband and wife at last.

#####

Mr. and Mrs. Carson decided to take a small risk and ride the same bus from Ripon to Downton. After they were married they made a brief stop at another tea shop for something to eat and so Mrs. Carson could go into the powder room and put her wedding band on the chain around her neck. Then they made their way to Downton. They did not touch, only spoke on mundane subjects, and of course, Mrs. Carson's married name could not yet be used in public. When the bus arrived in the village, they parted, Mr. Carson walking immediately back to the house and his wife stopping at the post office before following in his footsteps.

As she completed her business, Mrs. Carson felt her wedding ring against her breast with every step. She was happier than she had been in all of her life. She wished she could write to her sister to share her news, if nothing else. Molly had never understood why her sister had turned down Joe Burns twice, for a life in service. It wasn't that she believed Joe to be superior to all other men. She wanted her sister married, plain and simple. She might not understand Elsie's choice at first, but Mrs. Carson felt quite certain that her husband would charm her sister without much difficulty. Joe Burns was a good man, and would have treated his wife well, whoever she was, but Mr. Carson was devoted specifically to _her_, and very faithfully. Molly loved her sister and to find her beloved of _any_ husband would satisfy her. The trouble was that if Molly were to slip up and address a letter to Mrs. Elsie Carson at Downton Abbey, the whole secret might come out. The Carsons were playing rather a dangerous game and they both knew it, but in just a few more months they could dispense with all subterfuge. Mrs. Carson looked forward to that time.

Another time she looked forward to was the time she would spend alone with her husband on this, their wedding night. She was already making plans in her mind of exactly what she would do, and when, to make sure it all went off without a hitch. The only unknown factor in her mind was what would really happen between husband and wife when they were truly alone and free to do as they liked. Mrs. Carson could admit that she was very apprehensive. In spite of her boldness in instigating kisses and caresses, they had never removed any clothing and therefore had not crossed certain lines. Tonight there would be no lines and she felt like a young wife with little experience to carry her through the night. In this case she would have to rely on her husband to make sure she was comfortable. She believed that he would if he could. She would try to focus on the practical aspects of her plan - choosing the best room, smuggling linens into the room in the evening and into the laundry the next day, how long they could stay before returning to their separate and solitary rooms. And before any of that happened, Mrs. Carson would face the gargantuan task of hiding her radiant happiness from her colleagues and employers.

#####

While Mr. Carson oversaw the serving of the second course, his wife was putting fresh linen on the bed in a room she had not set foot in for months. Aside of the bed, all of the furniture was shrouded in dust covers. The bed was protected by some old linens and a slightly dusty counterpane. She removed these and replaced them with the ones she had smuggled into her room that morning. This room was not used for guests anymore, as it was considered far too drafty. Mrs. Carson had considered this when making her preparations. They didn't dare light a fire, so she had brought extra blankets and would bring two hot water bottles up when she returned to the room later. She didn't think she or Mr. Carson would be cold at first, but later on they would be glad of a little extra warmth.

She was finished in plenty of time to go downstairs for her dinner. She forced herself to eat, although her excitement and nervousness decreased her appetite significantly. She thought she might be sorry later if she ate nothing now. Mrs. Carson met her husband's questioning look with a smile and briefly raised eyebrows.

"Everything is ready," she murmured, so no one else could hear.

Mr. Carson smiled. "Midnight?"

She nodded. "Unless you think the family will be in bed earlier."

He frowned. "There's always _some_ chance of their all retiring early, but I don't think we should count on it."

"Midnight, then," she confirmed, then blushed and concentrated on eating her stew while her husband tried to watch her surreptitiously. Mr. Carson was enchanted by this juxtaposition of the practical housekeeper and this new, rosy-cheeked bride of his. They were the same woman and now _both_ of them were his. He wondered what he had done to be so lucky. He looked forward to learning more of the blushing bride tonight. She was the less familiar of the two and he found her quite enchanting.

_To be continued…_

**Mr. and Mrs. Carson, at last! Thanks for reading. Please leave a review if you can spare a few moments.**


	27. Midnight

At midnight, the door opened quietly. Charles walked in and closed and locked the door. Elsie was waiting across the room for him, already dressed in her nightgown and dressing gown. He was still in his white tie and waistcoat, his tailcoat conspicuously absent, and he carried his neatly folded pajamas and dressing gown over one arm. He laid them on the bedside table and stood gazing at his wife. She did not speak or smile.

"Is something the matter, Elsie?" he asked quietly.

She smiled a little. "I'm nervous, that's all. Kisses in your pantry are not the same as... all of this."

"Then why don't we start with just kisses?" Charles suggested. He pulled the dust cover from a chair, sat down, and held his hand out to her.

Elsie went to him immediately and sat on his lap. He kissed her firmly, enjoying the feel of her uncorseted curves under his hands. Later she would be wearing even less, but for now even touching her through several cottony layers was bliss. She softened in his arms, forgetting her apprehensions for the moment. Feeling his hands through her nightclothes was something completely new. Without the armor of her corset, she was deliciously exposed. Only with Charles could that vulnerability be so pleasurable.

Elsie pulled away from her husband, trying to catch her breath, and set about removing his tie and collar. "This must be dreadfully uncomfortable," she remarked, unfastening it slowly. "How can you bear to wear it every day?"

"You get used to it." But he sighed in relief when she discarded the collar and tie. "It _does_ feel good to be rid of it at the end of the night," he admitted.

"Yes, it does," she agreed, thinking of her corset.

His hands had been slowly moving over her back and arms and hips, but when one of them crept up to her breast she gasped and closed her eyes. Charles was encouraged by her response and he teased her further, varying the pressure of his touch as he caressed her. Soon she was panting his name, more and more desperate for that _something_ she knew was supposed to happen tonight.

Charles moved his hands to her hips and pushed at Elsie gently, encouraging her to get up from his lap. He stood as well, took her by the hand, and led her to the bed. She stood looking up at him and he could see her apprehension in his eyes; he was grateful that he could also see love and passion there. He let go of her hand and held her by the shoulders.

"I love you, my Elsie," he murmured. The fingers of one of his hands then trailed down her breast and stomach to reach the belt of her dressing gown, which he slowly untied. He opened it, as though he were opening a gift, and pushed it gently off of her shoulders. Elsie let it fall to the floor, her eyes still fixed on Charles's face. He didn't make another move, waiting to see what she would do. Elsie removed one of his cufflinks and then the other and placed them carefully on the bedside table. She unbuttoned his waistcoat and pushed it over his shoulders. She was just beginning to ponder the front of his shirt when he grew impatient and pulled her close and kissed her again. Being pressed up against him with very little clothing between them was thrilling and she tried to push herself even closer. Charles ran his hands over her bottom and then pulled her against him. Again, Elsie was reminded how much she was wanted. She kissed him again and he let himself fall backwards onto the bed, his arms around her waist taking her down with him. She laughed a little and kissed him. She was a bit unnerved by her position on top of him, so she rolled to lay beside him.

"Perhaps we should lie down properly," Elsie suggested. "Our pillows are that way," she pointed out, gesturing toward the head of the bed.

Charles smiled. "If you wish."

"But you had better take off your shirt and trousers," she told him, blushing. She crawled under the covers and looked away as he got back out of bed to remove more clothing.

"What are you hiding your eyes from, Elsie?" he asked her. "We're married now."

"I don't know," Elsie answered. "I just feel like I shouldn't look."

He chuckled. "Well, you don't have to look if you don't want to, but you might like to learn how to take off my shirt." He sat down on the bed. "Who knows when you'll next have the chance to undress me."

This sober reminder of the disadvantages of their situation decided her, and she sat up, within reach of him. "Should I undo the buttons first?"

"They're not buttons," he corrected her. "They're studs."

"Studs, then." Elsie reached for the top stud and fiddled with it for a few moments before successfully removing the two pieces. "They're like tiny cufflinks," she commented, getting to work on the next one.

"You're very quick, Elsie. I think you could double as a valet, if we needed one."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "And just whom do you want me to dress and undress, Charles?"

"Hmmm, I wouldn't want you dressing or undressing any man but me, so I suppose that isn't such a good idea."

"Someday when I'm free to do so, I think I will be your valet," she told him, as she removed the last studs and laid them on the bedside table. "And _these_ require no instruction." She quickly pushed his braces over his shoulders and then retreated to her side of the bed, looking away from Charles. "Now you do the rest."

He smiled at her unexpected shyness and made quick work of his shirt and trousers before sliding under the sheets and reaching for her.

She lifted the blanket gingerly and peered under it. "You're still wearing shorts and socks," she remarked.

"Do you want me to take them off, too?" Charles asked. "I will, if you like, but then I will ask you to remove your nightgown." He paused and then lowered his voice. "Or let me do it for you."

Elsie was pink from the neckline of her nightgown to the roots of her hair, but she answered him. "Please do, on all counts."

Charles took off the rest and then slid back under the sheets and over to her. She pointed out the buttons on the front of her nightgown and he unbuttoned them very slowly. Elsie was nervous about her husband seeing her naked, but all the same she wished he would hurry. She felt that now familiar urgency to be as close to him as she could. She had felt it before, but it seemed to increase as the evening continued. She felt hot and impatient and slightly mad.

At last Charles finished with the buttons, pulled her nightgown over her head, and cast it onto the floor. He leaned over and kissed her while one hand moved over her body in search of her knickers. He caught his breath when he found only skin. "Mrs. Hughes," he growled. "Where are your knickers?"

"In my room, I should think," she answered blithely. "That's where I left them, anyway."

"I'm glad," he whispered in her ear. "You won't need them tonight." Charles laid on his side next to his wife, taking in her appearance and her expression. She was beautiful... and anxious. "What is it, love?" he asked.

"Just nervous again," Elsie admitted.

"There's one thing you can do to get rid of those nerves," he whispered, kissing her neck gently and caressing her waist and hip.

"What's that?" she murmured.

"I'll tell you in a minute," he breathed in her ear. He pressed his body up against her side and his free hand was everywhere, learning a few of the spots that made her sigh, but never staying long in one place. Elsie squirmed and her breathing grew more erratic.

"Tell me, Charles," she urged her husband. "How do I avoid being nervous?"

"I will," he told her, his own breathing ragged. "Be patient for a few moments."

Charles continued to caress her skin slowly with his wandering hand. She moaned when his hand slipped between her thighs. She felt even more hot and impatient than she had before. Something was happening that had never happened to her before. Her mind was so focused on what his fingers were doing that she didn't quite notice when he shifted his body over hers. She gasped when he pushed into her; for a second she couldn't breathe at all, but then her breath returned, quick and shallow. He stayed still while her body adjusted to his. There was some pain, but not the kind she had expected, and it didn't stop her from wanting to move; it coexisted with the desire and pleasure she was feeling. He replaced his fingers and stroked her gently. Combined, the sensation of fullness and the feeling his fingers drew from her took her by surprise and her body tensed and then released. She felt as though she had finally finished what they had started so many times kissing late at night in his pantry or her sitting room. It was a lovely, soft thing that gave her the most profound feeling of relief and relaxation and contentment. She opened her eyes and found her husband looking down at her. "You're beautiful," he told her. When she shifted a little, he closed his eyes and groaned. She moved again, this time more purposefully pushing her body against his and he moved himself. He kept a slow rhythm at first, but before long he let go entirely and gave way to the frantic pace his body demanded. She watched his face change as he moved inside her, and felt some wonder that she was capable of bringing him to be overwhelmed enough to make such faces. She had never seen him look like this before and she liked it. His eyes were closed and he looked almost as if he were in pain, but he panted her name and stilled occasionally to kiss her tenderly. He thrusted faster; she savored the feeling of being so close to him. And then it was all over and he collapsed next to her and planted little kisses on her shoulder as his breathing and heart rate returned to normal. She turned to him and kissed him, open-mouthed.

"You never told me what I needed to do," Elsie murmured. "To avoid being nervous." She thought she knew the answer, but she waited to see what he would say.

"I had to distract you from even _thinking_ about being nervous," he told her. "If you'd tried to keep yourself from being nervous, you likely would have been even more nervous."

She smiled sleepily. "It worked, Charles. That was wonderful."

He pulled the sheets, which were down at Elsie's knees, up to cover them and turned from her to switch off the lamp. "Go to sleep now, Elsie. We need to leave this room by half past three."

She switched off the lamp on her side of the bed. "Good night, my dear. I love you."

"I love you, too, my darling." Within seconds they were both asleep.

#####

Elsie awoke an hour or so later to the light snores of her husband. A gibbous moon shone in through one window; she had forgotten to close those curtains after taking a look outside before Charles joined her in the room. It was just enough to give her a shadowed view of the room. Her husband slept on his side, facing her, one arm resting just under her breast. She knew she was naked, but she shifted slightly just to be sure. She knew Charles was naked, too, but she chose not to peek under the sheet. She smiled and sighed; she couldn't remember ever being happier than she was at this moment. Elsie wondered how she would meet the others' eyes in the morning. Surely they would look at her and know exactly what she had been up to. She had done something exciting and meaningful and she felt wonderfully different. Some part of her would never be the same, but somehow she was still the same woman she had been before. Perhaps the others wouldn't notice, after all. She glanced at Charles. He looked just the same as always, though quite a bit more disheveled. She thought she could get used to waking up next to him every morning. She was sorry that it was not to be right now, but in less than five months' time, she would be mistress of her own home, however small it might be, and free to claim her husband in public as well as in private. Elsie glanced around the room. She could not see all of the clothing scattered across the room, but she knew it was there. She felt like a young woman, newly married and gleefully enjoying the physical aspects of marriage. She remembered and relived moments from their special night together as she fell asleep.

_To be continued…_

**a/n: Thank you to all who have taken the time to review. I really appreciate it. I haven't written many reviews myself lately, but I plan to get back to doing that soon. Other things just get in the way.**

**Please leave a review if you can spare a few moments.**


	28. The Secret Mrs Carson

Charles awoke shortly after three in the morning. It was almost time for him to wake Elsie so they could go back to their own rooms, but he watched her for a little while as she slept. There was only a tiny bit of moonlight left, but he remembered just how she had looked as they fell asleep together. Soon she would go upstairs and pin her hair into her usual severe style and don that blue dress that covered so much of her. Compared to the woman she would become when she put on her uniform, she now looked almost wild. Her hair was in a plait, but many of her curls had escaped and were spread across her pillow. The sheets covered most of her, but her bare shoulders were visible. Charles wished he could wake her with kisses and make love to her again, but there wasn't time.

"Elsie," he murmured against her neck. "Elsie, it's time to wake up."

She stirred and mumbled. "Mmmmm."

"Good morning, my darling." Charles kissed her cheek and sat up, causing the blankets to fall down a bit from her shoulder.

"Charles, it's freezing!" she exclaimed, tugging at the blanket. "How am I going to get up?"

"Don't fret, my dear," he reassured her, tucking the blankets back around her and climbing out of bed. He dressed quickly in his pajamas and dressing gown and then collected Elsie's clothing. He got back into bed and under the sheets.

"What on earth are you doing, Charles?" she asked, laughing.

"I'm helping you get dressed before you get out of bed," he explained. "Now reach your arms toward me."

Elsie followed his instructions and before long she was dressed, buttoned, and knotted into her nightclothes, without getting out from under the sheets. It was still cold when she got up, but it was much better than being completely bare in the drafty room. With her husband's help, she stripped the bed of its fresh linens and blankets, replaced them with the old dusty ones, and stashed the used ones under the bed. Elsie would return for them at some point in the morning and add them to one of the housemaids' piles or take them to the laundry herself. No one would question any reason she gave.

She helped Charles collect his evening wear and replaced the dust cover on the chair they had used.

"I have this room cleaned and aired occasionally," Elsie remarked. "I'll let a bit more dust collect before I send any of the maids in here."

"You think of everything, don't you?" Charles replied, impressed.

"I certainly try," she told him, smiling.

Charles pulled Elsie into his arms. "I don't want to leave," he lamented. "I wish we could stay here all day."

"So do I, love. But we can't."

He bent and kissed her passionately. "I'm already trying to work out a time and a place for our next encounter," he told her. "I've had a taste of you now and I don't think I'll ever be able to get enough."

"You know our situation as well as I do, so I needn't lecture you on patience and restraint. We'll find ways, somehow. But we're married now," she pointed out. "I don't think I've ever been so happy."

"Never," he growled in her ear before kissing her again. After a while they broke apart and each collected their things. "You go first, Elsie. We shouldn't be found together in the wee hours of the morning. I'll wait five minutes before I go up."

Elsie nodded and kissed his cheek. "I love you. I'll see you at breakfast."

"I love you," he whispered, and she slipped out of the room.

#####

The staff were unusually talkative at breakfast and Mr. Carson tried to quiet them.

"Need I remind you that this house is still in mourning?" he boomed. "I suggest you all behave with more decorum or I will find more work for you to do." He looked to his right. "I'm sure Mrs. Hughes will assist me in finding extra tasks to be handed out to any and all who do not conduct themselves appropriately."

He was answered by a general, mumbled "yes, Mr. Carson" and breakfast proceeded without much conversation. Mrs. Carson was used to his speaking this way to the staff, but she was a little irritated by it this particular morning. As long as the staff were quiet, the butler and housekeeper couldn't speak anywhere near freely. As soon as she asked him if he slept well, he realized his mistake and had the good grace to look sheepish.

"I did, Mrs. Hughes," he answered. "I had some rather pleasant dreams."

Mrs. Carson bit her lip to prevent the smile that threatened, and she could make no reply. Mr. Carson nudged her knee with his and she looked sharply at him. He was trying to provoke her now. Mrs. Carson quickly finished her tea and pushed her chair back from the table. "Mr. Carson, might I see you in my sitting room when you've finished your breakfast?" she asked in a tone that brooked no disagreement.

"Of course, Mrs. Hughes," he agreed, really having no choice. Some of the more observant staff caught on to the apparent discord between the butler and housekeeper and could see that Mr. Carson was in trouble with the one person in the house, perhaps even the world, who dared question his behavior. No one spoke of it, but it was a small comfort to know that Mrs. Hughes was about to take him down a peg, though she would never betray him by doing so publicly.

When Mr. Carson arrived in his wife's sitting room, he was in for a bit of a lecture, but it was tempered by several kisses.

"Charles, you must be more careful," she admonished him gently. "Anyone might have seen you nudging my knee under the table or heard your suggestive remarks. If we're to stay here for over four more months, you must control yourself. Save it for when we're alone."

"I know you're right, Elsie," he admitted. "I'm not sure what came over me. I'll behave myself, I promise."

She smiled. "Good. I look forward to all of the flirtation and flattery you've got for me every evening over a glass of something."

He raised his eyebrows and smiled wickedly. "You may count on it."

#####

"Well, we made it through one day," Mrs. Carson said with a sigh of relief. "How many more to go?"

"I haven't counted exactly. But what about dinner tomorrow?" he asked. "Just the family and Lady Rosamund, with the dowager and Mrs. Crawley coming up from the village."

"Do you know if there's some reason they're all coming on the same night?" she asked.

"No, I don't, and to be honest-" Mrs. Carson suddenly held up her hand to silence him.

He frowned and waited for an explanation.

She rose from her chair and tiptoed to the door. After listening for a few seconds, she flung the door open wide. "Is there something you need, Thomas?" she asked the footman she'd just caught listening at the door.

Thomas was flustered. "I, uh, I was about to turn in and was wondering if Mr. Carson needed me to do anything else."

"No, thank you, Thomas, but I'm obliged to you for your thoughtfulness." The butler's tone was dripping with sarcasm.

"Good night, then, Mr. Carson, Mrs. Hughes." Thomas disappeared down the corridor as quickly as he could.

"What was that about?" Miss O'Brien asked him when he reached the servants' hall.

"I just wanted to see if I could hear Mrs. Hughes taking a bite out of old Carson, but she caught me listening at the door. She must have ears like a bat, that one," he grumbled.

The lady's maid laughed at him. "I don't know why you worry about such trivial stuff, Thomas. You'll never get what you want by skulking around, listening at doors."

Thomas shrugged and lit a cigarette. "You never know about that, Miss O'Brien. Everyone has their secrets."

#####

Mrs. Carson stood with her ear against the inside of the pantry door. After a few moments, she relaxed and returned to her chair. "He's gone, hopefully for the rest of the night. But we'll need to be careful."

Mr. Carson nodded. "Nothing even slightly out of line until after we _know_ that everyone's gone to bed."

"I wish they would all go up now," she whispered. "I want to kiss you."

"Don't tempt me, Elsie," he whispered back.

"Perhaps you should do your evening rounds now, Mr. Carson," she suggested.

"Perhaps you're right," he agreed.

"I'll be in my sitting room." Mr. and Mrs. Carson left the pantry and went their separate ways. Mr. Carson took his time making sure that everyone upstairs was in bed and when he got back downstairs most of the lights had been switched off and all was silent. He quickly entered the housekeeper's sitting room and closed the door behind him. She stood up from her desk and they both took the few steps required to bring them together in the center of the room, where they embraced, kissing passionately.

When they paused for breath, Mr. Carson spoke. "This has been quite possibly the most difficult day I have ever endured."

"Are they all in bed?" Mrs. Carson wanted to know.

"They are, thank the Lord," he sighed.

She gave him a flirtatious glance. "What are we going to do about it, Charles?"

"I'd like to do something that no gentleman would ever suggest."

Mrs. Carson shivered. "But you're not a gentleman."

"Fortunately. But you must tell me if you find it offensive and I'll stop," he told her.

"Do tell me, Charles. I'm all agog."

Mr. Carson pushed his wife toward the desk behind her, guiding her as he walked her backwards. When they were close enough, he lifted her to sit on her desk and kissed her. Then he reached down and slid his hand under her skirt and ran his fingers up the length of one of her legs.

"I knew you'd have a clever plan," Mrs. Carson breathed. "But you're wrong about one thing."

"What's that?" Mr. Carson asked hoarsely.

"I have a feeling there are quite a few gentlemen who would suggest this to their wives."

He laughed seductively. "Perhaps," he admitted, unfastening his trousers. "I've been thinking about this all day, Elsie."

"Oh, my darling," Mrs. Carson breathed. "I hoped we could find a way."

Neither had any more words as they coupled somewhat awkwardly on the desk. It wasn't ideal for a respectably married couple, but none of that mattered. It was very late and they both had to get up early the next day, but their lovemaking wasn't interrupted. Afterwards, Mrs. Carson picked up a pen and some papers that had been scattered on the floor and replaced them on the desk and she and her husband made their way up to their separate rooms. Mr. Carson was glad he had not been too prudish to do what he had just done, and he hoped it might happen again soon. Mrs. Carson's imagination wandered around the house in search of other furniture that might serve a similar purpose as her desk had just now. Both slept better than they had in months.

_To be continued…_

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	29. Just Out of Reach

"Mrs. Hughes, her ladyship wants to speak with you," Mr. Carson told Mrs. Carson as he paused by her open door.

She looked up. "Do you know what it's about?"

"I'm afraid not," he answered. "But when you find out, let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

"Thank you, Mr. Carson," she replied with a weary smile.

He stepped into the room and spoke to her quietly. "Are you quite well, Mrs. Hughes?"

"I'm well, but very tired." She looked up at her husband ruefully. "I'm afraid I'll need to turn in early tonight, and perhaps for a few nights after that." She lowered her voice. "Too many late nights in the past week."

"Ah," he commented. "I think I could use a few early nights myself, but I'll admit I didn't want to confess it. I'm not as young as I once was. I'm also not as young as you."

She dismissed his comment. "You're quite young enough for me, Mr. Carson. And I'm sure we'll be back to normal soon enough. A little rest will put us right."

Mr. Carson would have told her that he would miss her, but Anna appeared in the doorway and he had to depart without another word, leaving his wife to confer with the head housemaid before going upstairs to meet with Lady Grantham.

It was such a busy day that Mr. and Mrs. Carson barely spoke all day. They met for sherry in her sitting room in the evening, but there were so many interruptions that they never had the door closed long enough for a goodnight kiss. Mr. Carson was disappointed, but he knew it was a consequence of their secret marriage. They had both known that it would be like this, but that didn't make it any easier. He wondered sometimes if getting married when they did had made them both more miserable than they would have been if they'd waited until they left Downton to be married. It was only when they did find time to truly be alone - when they sat together and talked about their plans, when they could openly speak their affection - that it all seemed worth the trouble. They were deceiving the Crawleys and the other staff, but before God they were husband and wife. That meant a great deal to both of them.

#####

"I've missed you," Mr. Carson murmured, kissing his wife's neck. "It's been nearly three weeks."

She let him push her against one of his pantry doors. The small windows high in the wall meant that they would have to be quiet, but everyone else was in bed, so they were truly alone.

"I know, love," Mrs. Carson replied. "I've missed you, too. I didn't know a secret marriage would be such torment."

He pulled back. "Do you regret it, Elsie?"

"No, I couldn't regret marrying you," she told him. "I only regret that our situation has made this the best option." She pulled him back to her and kissed him firmly. "Enough talk about regrets. Let's use the time we've been given."

"Yes, you're right." He kissed her and ran his hands along her sides. Her corset was a barrier to free exploration of her body, but his hands wandered below it, pressing his fingers gently into the flesh of her hips and thighs. Mrs. Carson lifted one leg and rubbed it against his. He caught it under her knee and pressed her harder into the door. She turned her head to one side, breathing heavily. After going weeks on no more than a half dozen kisses, she was both relieved and agitated that she had him all to herself at last. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her and she was almost embarrassed by how desperate she was for his touch. She could feel his hand working its way up her skirt. Soon it would be out of his way and there would be no more waiting. She could already feel his-

Mrs. Carson froze when she heard a slight noise in the corridor. "Someone's out there," she whispered. She listened for a few more seconds before taking action. "Charles, go sit down at your desk, now!"

He was confused, but he followed her instructions. No doubt she knew what she was doing. She shook out her skirts, keeping one ear to the door. Someone was out in the corridor, sniffling, and making her way to the butler's pantry. Mrs. Carson had an idea who was out there and was prepared to receive her.

A soft knock was heard and a voice broke the silence. "Carson?"

Mrs. Carson opened the door to Lady Mary. "Milady? Whatever's the matter?" she asked, barely managing to conceal her own breathlessness.

"Oh, Mrs. Hughes, I wasn't, I mean I thought-"

"You were looking for Mr. Carson," the housekeeper finished gently. "He's just here, milady, but I hope you'll forgive him this once for not standing in your presence. He's twisted his knee a bit and needs to rest it so he'll be up to speed tomorrow."

Lady Mary looked concerned. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear it."

Mr. Carson was distressed by his inability to rise from his seat, but in his current condition it would have been mortifying to do so. "How can I help, milady?" he asked.

"Well, I… I keep having this nightmare," Lady Mary explained.

"Milady, why don't you have a seat right here?" Mrs. Carson guided the young woman to the chair facing Mr. Carson's desk. "I was just going up. You and Mr. Carson can have a chat and I'm sure you'll feel better."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes," Lady Mary said in a small voice.

Mrs. Carson left the room without a second glance; she couldn't risk catching her husband's eye, for fear of giving herself away. Before she had taken more than a few steps down the corridor, however, she stopped and leaned against the wall, trying to catch her breath. It had been a close call, and she was sorry to have abandoned her husband, but in the end she thought she had managed the situation as well as she could have. Now her last challenge of the day would be trying to calm down and get some sleep. She wasn't sure she would succeed.

#####

Mr. Carson wasn't the only person in a foul humor at breakfast the next morning. Mrs. Carson was generally snappish with everyone but her husband. He could barely tolerate any conversation at all between the staff and he barked out orders to anyone who dared question, even kindly, his bad mood.

He spoke normally to Mrs. Carson, however. Their matching moods had the same cause.

"I'm sorry to have abandoned you last night, Mr. Carson," she apologized. "I really wasn't sure what else to do."

"You have nothing to apologize for," he assured her. "I was very impressed by your quick thinking. I was not capable of much rational thought at that moment."

Mrs. Carson laughed quietly. "Is Lady Mary all right?" she asked.

"Yes, I think so. She's been having nightmares since her father died, but she hadn't told anyone about them."

She nodded. "It was probably good for her to talk about it, and I know how kind you are to her. Poor lamb."

Mr. Carson raised his eyebrows. "I should write this in my diary. 'Mrs. Hughes speaks kindly about Lady Mary.' Even _you'll_ admit that it's not a common occurrence."

She pursed her lips. "I may not like her, but she's suffered a great loss and I really am sympathetic. I remember when my father died. It wasn't an easy time for Molly and me."

"I should like to hear more about Molly sometime, Mrs. Hughes," Mr. Carson remarked.

She smiled. "Of course. And one day you'll meet her."

"I look forward to it."

_To be continued…_

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	30. A Splendid Chap

Mrs. Carson sighed contentedly, leaning her head against Mr. Carson's chest as she caught her breath. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hair. After a minute, he helped her down from his desk. She let her skirt fall back down and went to his little mirror to fix her hair; her husband refastened his trousers and went to stand behind her.

"You're lovely, Mrs. Carson," he murmured, still a little out of breath.

She smiled at him in the mirror. "So are you, my dear."

"I think I'll sleep well tonight," Mr. Carson remarked.

"I will, too," Mrs. Carson agreed. "Better than I have in weeks."

"I'm already feeling marvelously sleepy. We'd better go up soon or I might fall asleep on my feet." He tilted his head. "Why are you tidying your hair, Elsie? You're about to go to bed."

She let her hands drop to her sides. "Habit, I suppose. Shall we go, then?"

Mr. Carson nodded and went to open the door. He peeked up and down the dark corridor before gesturing for her to come. He took her hand and they walked together toward the stairs. When they reached the point where they would separate, Mrs. Carson lifted her husband's hand to her lips and kissed it lightly. "Good night, my love," she said quietly.

"Good night." Mr. Carson kissed her cheek and they separated for the night.

#####

The following afternoon, Mrs. Carson's step was light as she knocked once on the pantry door and entered without waiting for an answer.

"Mr. Carson, I'm going into the village and I wonder if you'd like to join-" She was brought up short by the sight of Lord Grantham sitting in a chair that faced Mr. Carson's desk. "Oh dear, I'm sorry to have interrupted," she said. "I'll come back later."

"That won't be necessary, Mrs. Hughes," Lord Grantham told her. "I would value your opinion as well as Carson's."

"Very well," she agreed. "How can I help?"

"It's just something that the late Lord Grantham mentioned once to me in passing," the young earl began. "I understand that Mrs. Patmore has been having difficulty with her eyesight."

"Yes, that is true," Mrs. Carson admitted reluctantly. She hoped the cook was not about to be sacked.

"Carson tells me she hasn't yet been to see the doctor."

"I have encouraged her to see Dr. Clarkson, but she refuses," Mr. Carson explained.

"I ask because the previous Lord Grantham had thought to send Mrs. Patmore to an eye specialist in London, but we would first need to have some diagnosis. I wondered if Carson might be able to persuade Mrs. Patmore to see the doctor. But perhaps you might try it as well, Mrs. Hughes."

Mrs. Hughes shook her head. "I think Mrs. Patmore is rather sensitive about me at the moment. Ever since the incident with the salty pudding, I think she's been embarrassed that I caught on to why she refused to make the pudding that her ladyship asked for."

"The poor woman is afraid of what will happen to her," Mr. Carson put in.

"Mr. Carson was very kind to Mrs. Patmore that evening, your lordship. I think he might be the best man for the job," Mrs. Carson suggested. "I will go with her to see the doctor, though, if she wants company."

"But what can I say that I haven't said already?" Mr. Carson protested.

Lord Grantham looked thoughtful. "I suppose you could just tell her the plain truth - that I want to help, but I don't know how until I know just what's wrong."

Mr. and Mrs. Carson exchanged a glance. That idea might just work.

"And for heaven's sake, tell the poor woman I'm not about to sack her!"

Mr. Carson nodded. "Yes, I will do it, milord. As soon as I get a chance to speak to her privately."

Mrs. Carson smiled at the scene before her. Her husband had already come to respect this young Lord Grantham and here the man was, in the butler's pantry proving his good heart yet again. "Do let me know if I can help," Mrs. Carson put in.

The earl rose from his chair. "Thank you for your help, Carson. Now I'll be on my way. Mrs. Hughes was about to ask you to join her on a walk to the village, I believe. You should take her up on the offer, Carson." He gave a cheeky grin to the butler and housekeeper before he slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him.

#####

The couple walked slowly during the part of the way when they were out of sight of both the house and the village. Mrs. Carson slipped her hand into the crook of her husband's elbow and they meandered about as though they had nowhere in particular to be.

"It's very kind of his lordship to take such an interest in Mrs. Patmore's health," Mrs. Carson murmured after a few minutes of silence.

"Indeed," Mr. Carson agreed. "It might not have been his idea from the beginning, but he plans to see it through, though he has no obligation to do so."

"Do you know, I sometimes still think of him as Mr. Matthew? I wonder how long it will take for me to get used to his being Lord Grantham."

"You will, in time," he assured her. "When the last earl acceded to the title, I felt a similar sensation. He had been Mr. Crawley to me and then suddenly he was his lordship."

"Well, whatever his name is, I think his lordship's a splendid chap."

Mr. Carson kissed his wife's cheek and changed the subject. "And _you _are a splendid _lass_," he told her.

Mrs. Carson let go of her husband's arm as they neared the village. "You flatter me," she replied, blushing.

"I speak only the truth, Elsie," he murmured. "Would you punish me for that?

"Certainly not! Did you hear me complaining?" she teased him. "I will happily take every bit of flattery you care to give me."

"I can't give you everything you deserve, my dear."

"I'm sure you'll think of some way to make it up to me," Mrs. Carson remarked, her tone slightly suggestive. A glance at her husband made her concerned, however. He looked very serious, his brows drawn together and a frown on his lips. "What is it, Charles? Tell me."

Mr. Carson sighed. "It's nothing new. I can't help thinking about what a terrible husband I am. One who refuses his wife the use of his name in public and obliges her to hide their marriage as though it were something shameful."

"Charles, you mustn't do this. I knew what I was doing when I married you."

"Shameful is the last word that could be used to describe anything to do with you, my dear," he said quietly.

"Don't do this to yourself, love," Mrs. Carson protested. "It does no good to talk like that. It is not forever, you know."

"It seems like it," he lamented.

"Look ahead a few months and imagine us together, every day and every night."

"Every night..." he mused.

"Even now we're together every day, and for bits and pieces of some of the nights," she pointed out.

"What about tonight?" he wanted to know. "I thought I would try to catch Mrs. Patmore before she goes to bed, but after that..."

"I'll wait for you." Mrs. Carson flushed slightly, a little embarrassed to be having such a conversation in public, even though she knew no one could hear them. "In my sitting room. Don't come to me until you know all the others have gone to bed."

Mr. Carson nodded. "As my lady wishes," he whispered. She shivered in anticipation.

"Do you have any business in the village today, Mr. Carson, or are you simply following his lordship's order that you accompany me?"

"The only errand I have in the village today is to follow you as you go about _your_ business. His lordship's _suggestion_ only made it easier."

_To be continued…_

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	31. Frustration

Mr. Carson knocked and entered Mrs. Carson's sitting room, closing the door behind him.

"How did it go?" she asked him.

"She's agreed to see the doctor," he answered. "I told her you would go with her if she would like some company. She seemed a little uncertain, said she'd think about it."

"I'm not surprised. We aren't the best of friends. Though if it weren't for that blasted store cupboard key, we might be."

"And you'll never give it up?"

"Absolutely not," she told him. "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't. Her ladyship has made it clear that I'm to have sole custody of the key."

"Well, we've made some progress anyway, getting her to the doctor," he remarked. "I hope there's something they can do for her."

"Yes." Mrs. Carson gestured to a chair. "Sit down, Mr. Carson."

He did as she suggested and she was on his lap, kissing him, within seconds. She cupped his face in her hands and he caressed every part of her he could reach that was not covered by her corset. He slid the fingers of one hand into her hair and the other hand made its way slowly up one of her legs. Mrs. Carson sighed; he turned her to jelly every time he put his hand under her skirt like that. She tried to smother the squeak that escaped her when his fingers reached the opening in her knickers. She stopped kissing him and grasped his shoulder with one hand, the fingers of the other tangling in his hair. He moaned softly when she involuntarily tugged at his hair in response to the deft movements of his fingers.

"Charles," Mrs. Carson whispered.

"Elsie," he murmured in return. "I have an idea."

"I hope it involves your making love to me."

Mr. Carson let out a low chuckle and moved his hand back down to her ankle. He nudged her to stand up and when she faced him he guided her movements until she straddled his lap, facing him. Mrs. Carson was blushing furiously. "I can't believe I'm doing this. It seems so… I don't know."

"Do you want to stop?" he asked.

"No!" she exclaimed, then leaned in to whisper in his ear. "No. It makes a nice change from one of our desks."

Mr. Carson took a ragged breath. He quickly unfastened his trousers and Mrs. Carson took him inside her. The only sound for a few seconds was their breathing. Before either of them could move, however, a loud crash was heard from the kitchen.

"Bloody hell!" Mr. Carson swore softly. Mrs. Carson was so startled she almost fell backwards, but her husband caught her. They could both hear someone messing about in the kitchen. Mrs. Carson reluctantly slid off of her husband's lap and let her skirts fall. She took a few breaths to try and calm herself.

"I'll go see what's going on," she whispered, moving toward the door and switching off the light. "I'll keep whoever it is occupied and you can get up to your room." She was almost out the door when she turned back, regretful at having to leave him. Taking a few steps back in his direction, she gave Mr. Carson a fiery, open-mouthed kiss, before fleeing the room. Left alone in the darkened room, he sighed and let his head fall back against the wall behind him.

Mrs. Carson made her way down the corridor, still trying to steady her breathing. She wanted to cry out in frustration. She could feel her heart pounding between her thighs as she walked to the kitchen. She was sure her hair was untidy and she was likely flushed as well. She could only hope that whoever was in the kitchen was not very observant. When she arrived she was glad to find that the only light in the room was the hand lamp sitting on the kitchen table. She looked around the room and discovered Lady Sybil reaching for something on a high shelf.

"Can I help, milady?" Mrs. Carson asked softly, hoping not to startle the girl.

Lady Sybil jumped at the sound of her voice, but thankfully she didn't drop the glass she had just grasped. "Oh, Mrs. Hughes! I was just getting a glass of milk and I knocked a heavy bowl on the floor." She shrugged. "I couldn't sleep and sometimes drinking milk helps. I'm sorry if I've disturbed you."

"Oh no, I was just… busy in my sitting room. In fact, I should probably be going to bed myself. Do you mind if I join you?"

Lady Sybil looked surprised, but she had no objection. Mrs. Carson got out the milk and a second glass and poured some for both of them. She urged the girl to sit at the table with her back to the doorway, and she sat beside her.

"Milady, you say you couldn't sleep. Is anything troubling you?"

Lady Sybil nodded. "The usual thing, of course. I miss Papa. Mary has nightmares, but I just have trouble sleeping. I lie awake for hours, remembering him."

"And does that make you sad, milady?"

"Sometimes," she replied. "Other times I feel happy to have those memories."

"And how are you tonight, milady?"

"Tonight I'm sad. Why did it have to happen?" Lady Sybil was silent for a little while before she started to cry. Mrs. Carson handed her a handkerchief. Out of the corner of her eye Mrs. Carson saw her husband creeping up the stairs, his shoes in his hand. She breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to the young woman seated next to her.

"I don't think anyone can answer that question, milady," she replied gently, but Lady Sybil only cried harder. Mrs. Carson laid her hand lightly on the girl's shoulder for a moment, but after some hesitation, she drew her into her arms. Lady Sybil's tears fell heavily on the housekeeper's breast, the older woman rocking her from side to side. Normally Mrs. Carson kept a certain physical distance between herself and the family she served, allowing them to comfort each other, never pushing into the place where a mother or a sister should stand. Now, however, it didn't seem right to leave the poor girl, barely more than a child, to weep alone and uncomforted in the middle of the night, when she herself was able to do something to help. Mrs. Carson knew herself well enough that she was able to admit that just as Lady Mary was Mr. Carson's favorite, Lady Sybil was hers. Her attachment to the earl's youngest daughter was of a more private nature than Mr. Carson's bond with Lady Mary, however. Mostly, she just admired the girl, but went about her business, only breaking her usual habits in situations like this.

"It's all right, little one," she murmured in a singsong tone, and in time Lady Sybil began to calm. She stopped crying and pulled back from Mrs. Carson, sniffling and wiping her eyes and nose.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes," she managed.

"Do you feel any better, lass?"

Lady Sybil smiled a little. "No one else calls me that. It sounds nice. That's just the way people from Scotland say 'girl,' isn't it?"

Mrs. Carson smiled. "Yes, milady, but it's almost always used affectionately."

"Perhaps I should call Mary and Edith 'lass.'" Lady Sybil then gave a little giggle. "They'd probably think me mad. I'd better leave it to the real Scots."

"Perhaps that would be best," Mrs. Carson agreed. "Do you think you can go back to bed now, dear?"

"Yes. Thank you, Mrs. Hughes."

"Good night, milady."

#####

Once the sound of Lady Sybil's steps on the stairs had faded away, Mrs. Carson let her head fall into her hands. She had admonished Mr. Carson earlier in the day when he remarked that it seemed like it would be forever before they could live openly as husband and wife, but now she felt just as keenly how difficult it was and how long the next several months would be. She didn't know how she could take many more evenings like this one - one moment quite happily drowning in passion and the next moment torn from her beloved by a noise in the kitchen. At moments like this she wasn't sure how she could continue to bear the situation. She didn't begrudge Lady Sybil any of her time, but being repeatedly interrupted at such moments was becoming intolerable. She wondered if tomorrow night Lady Edith would come downstairs in search of a glass of water and some comfort. Perhaps the next night Lady Grantham herself might come looking for the housekeeper in the middle of the night. Mrs. Crawley the night after, Lord Grantham the night after that, and so on. Mrs. Carson shook her head to clear these images, products of her own frustration, from her mind. There was nothing to be done tonight except to try to get some sleep. She didn't think she would succeed, but it was all there was to be done.

Mr. Carson spent a mostly sleepless night trying to calm his mind and body after his sudden separation from his wife. As long as he lay awake, all he could think of was their unfinished encounter and of how delightfully disheveled she had looked sitting in the kitchen with Lady Sybil. When he fell asleep, he was assaulted by sensual images of Mrs. Carson, some of things they had done before and others from his most erotic fantasies. From these dreams he frequently awoke, sweating, out of breath, and just as frustrated as had felt when his wife left him alone in her sitting room. He didn't blame her; she was probably experiencing a similarly sleepless night. But once again he wondered how much longer he could tolerate their present situation.

The next morning, the Carsons met at breakfast with shadows under their eyes and sharp words and severe expressions for everyone but one another. It was a long day for the whole staff.

#####

One afternoon about a week later Mrs. Carson came through the back door and purposefully made her way to Mr. Carson's pantry. She stood in front of his desk removing her gloves as he greeted her with a smile.

"I need to speak to you about something," she told him in a low voice. "Alone."

"Is something wrong, Elsie?" he questioned in an undervoice.

"Not wrong, exactly. But we must talk."

"Tonight?"

"Yes, tonight," Mrs. Carson answered. "Even if we have to stay up half the night to be alone."

Mr. Carson got up from his desk and approached her. "Can you not tell me now?" he asked, taking one of her hands.

She bit her lip and looked down at their joined hands. "Come to my sitting room in five minutes," she told him. "We shouldn't be overheard at this time of day. It won't take long." Mrs. Carson squeezed her husband's hand and left the room quickly. In her sitting room, she had removed her coat and hat when he entered and closed the door. He took her hand again and looked into her face, impatient for her explanation. He was a bit rattled by her sudden appearance, looking so grave, and he wanted reassurance.

"Elsie, please." He couldn't say anything else.

"Oh dear, how does one go about this?" She spoke more to herself than to him. Then she looked up at him with an expression that he could not interpret. She smiled, but she seemed nervous. All he could do was wait. "Charles, don't look at me like that," she entreated him. "Everything's fine. _I'm_ fine." He seemed to relax. "I've just returned from an errand."

"You went into the village, didn't you? Or was it somewhere else?"

"I went to Ripon." Elsie took a deep breath. "To see a doctor."

_To be continued..._

**Thank you all for your patience and sticking with me. I really appreciate all of your reviews and support. Please leave a review if you can spare a few moments.**


	32. Changes

"A doctor? Now you're frightening me again, Elsie."

"I went to Ripon to see a doctor who wouldn't know me. If I'd gone to Dr. Clarkson, I'd have had to admit that we're married."

Mr. Carson frowned. "Would you? Why?"

"When I made the appointment, I thought I..." Mrs. Carson lowered her voice to a whisper. "I thought I might be pregnant."

Mr. Carson was so taken by surprise that he could make no answer.

"By a few days ago, I knew that I wasn't, but I kept the appointment anyway. I'd thought my time for having children had passed. I won't go into detail, but certain things have been... irregular for some months. Since before we were married."

"But the doctor told you that you can still...?"

"I can," she admitted shakily. "Probably not for much longer, and it might not happen, but I can." Mr. Carson was speechless once again, trying to take it all in. "Charles, why don't you sit down?" Mrs. Carson led him to a chair and he did as she suggested. "So... what are you thinking, my dearest?" She had many thoughts on the subject herself, but she had had the bus ride back from Ripon to sort it all out in her mind.

"I'm surprised, for one thing. But also happy, hopeful, and overwhelmed, to be honest." He smiled at her, his eyes full of affection. "I love you, my darling."

She flushed and returned his smile. "But you do understand that I am _not _pregnant? And that I might _never _be pregnant?"

He took both of her hands and kissed them. "I do understand, my girl. But I will love you if we have no children at all, if we have ten children, or anything in between."

Mrs. Carson couldn't help laughing. "Let's hope we don't have ten, Mr. Carson. I'm not sure I'd be quite up to that challenge."

He stood up and kissed her. "Well, I must get back now."

"That's not quite all, Charles. You must see that. You must see that our plans will have to change."

He looked thoughtful. "You are still able to carry and bear a child. We have over three months left at Downton. But if you _should _become pregnant while we are still working here..."

"Exactly. We would have to leave in a great hurry or the child's early birth would make it appear that we had been up to no good before we left Downton. The only other option would be to reveal that we have been married all this time. I should think either of those things could create a scandal that would be quite uncomfortable for both of us."

"No, that won't do, Elsie. We'll have to leave sooner - as soon as I can find a job."

"And until then, we should probably try to control ourselves," she observed.

Mr. Carson scoffed. "As it is we hardly ever-"

"It only takes once!" Mrs. Carson pointed out.

He sighed heavily. "You're right, of course," he grumbled. "And we've had enough practice holding back."

She smiled affectionately and took his hand. "We'll manage. After all, I _did_ love you _before_ I ever thought about going to bed with you."

He had to smile at that. "True enough. We'll have plenty to talk about if we only try." Mr. Carson leaned down and kissed his wife's cheek. "Now I'd best be off. I have plans to make for my next half-day."

#####

A few evenings later, Mr. Carson walked through the back door and straight into Mrs. Carson's sitting room, closing the door behind him. She was already on her feet to greet him, having recognized his footsteps in the corridor. She expected him to embrace her, but instead he stood just inside the room, looking a little dazed.

"Are you all right, my dear?" Mrs. Carson asked. "How did it go in Ripon?"

"Yes, I'm fine," he answered. "It went very well, in fact. Better than I'd hoped."

She grasped Mr. Carson's hand. "Tell me, love."

He smiled and squeezed her hand. "I found a job and a cottage all in one day," he told her.

Mrs. Carson gasped, smiling. "Wonderful! I didn't think it would happen so fast."

"Neither did I," he admitted.

"So tell me all about it," she told him. "Sit down and take your coat off. I can get us some tea if you'd like."

"That would be lovely, Elsie."

"I'll only be a few minutes." She left the room.

Mr. Carson took his coat off and laid it over the back of her desk chair, then deposited his hat and gloves on her desk, thankful that the Crawleys had elected to dine out on this particular night. He hadn't had to rush back from Ripon to serve dinner. When Mrs. Carson returned with the tea tray, he had settled into the chair nearest the door. She set the tray on the table and poured the tea before sitting down at the other side of the table.

"I love that you know how to make my tea without asking me, Elsie."

"I could hardly help knowing it after so many years." She gave him a little smile. "Even if I didn't love you."

"Not everyone is so attentive to detail."

Mrs. Carson tilted her head to one side. "Are you thinking of someone in particular, Charles?"

He was embarrassed by his musings. "Never mind, Elsie. Don't listen to my foolishness."

"Well, you're right. Not everyone pays attention to little things, like how the butler takes his tea."

Mr. Carson looked thoughtful. "It was Alice I was thinking of, the one I almost married so many years ago. When I went to see her a few months ago she didn't remember how I took my tea. I found myself more irritated than I thought I should be over something so small."

"Well, it _had_ been a long time, I suppose." Mrs. Carson didn't really want to defend the one who might have taken her husband away from her, but she was a reasonable woman.

"Yes, it had," he admitted. "But I remembered how _she_ took _her_ tea. And when we met again a little while later, she had already forgotten and had to ask me again. Either that or she hadn't even bothered trying to remember. It irritated me, though I didn't think it was quite fair of me. And when she forgot…" Mr. Carson was lost in the memory for a moment.

"When she forgot…?" Mrs. Carson prompted him.

He smiled. "It made me think of _you_. It was that whole business with Alice that made me aware that I was falling in love with you."

"I suppose I ought to send her a thank you note," she replied mischievously. "I think you owe one to Joe Burns as well. His proposal forced me to consider how I really felt about leaving Downton. What I discovered was that I would never leave this place as long as you were here."

Mr. Carson reached for her across the table, laying his hand palm up. She took his hand and squeezed it.

"So how long is it until you start your new job? How much notice will we give?" Mrs. Carson wanted to know.

"We'd better give notice tomorrow," he answered. "I start in three weeks as maitre d' at the finest restaurant in Ripon."

"Three weeks!" She was surprised, but pleased. "I can certainly manage that."

"Yes, just three weeks and we'll be together in our own home."

"Do tell me about this home," Mrs. Carson prompted him. "A cottage, you said?"

"Yes, a cottage, but rather a tiny one," he warned. "We'll be quite snug, but I think you'll like it."

"Well, we're used to very small sleeping quarters," she observed.

He laughed. "And that is the one room in the whole house that is larger than what we're used to. Not by much, mind, but it's got to be bigger…"

"To accommodate a larger bed?"

"Yes. You'll laugh, Elsie, but I tried it out when I went to see the house. It's big enough for these long legs and this bulky body." His eyes twinkled. "And I _suppose_ you can join me there if you wish."

Mrs. Carson laughed out loud. "I do so wish," she assured him. She then got up from her chair and went to stand facing him. She bent and kissed him soundly. Mr. Carson tried to pull her into his lap, but she resisted. "Now, be good, Mr. Carson," she scolded him with a smile. "We should both go to bed early so we're well rested when we give our news to Lord Grantham and Lady Grantham."

"All right," he pretended to pout. "But I think I deserve at least one more kiss for my hard work today."

"Certainly." She kissed him again and lingered a little longer this time than before, but did at last pull away, reluctantly. "Now off to bed," she told him, trying to catch her breath.

He rose from his chair and they walked out into the corridor together. Some of the lights were still on and not everyone was in bed. Mr. Carson was tired, so he locked up early and went to bed. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Mrs. Carson was too excited to fall asleep immediately, but imaginings of her new life soon enough turned from thoughts into dreams.

_To be continued…_

**a/n: After the last chapter, a few people mentioned the issue of Elsie's age and ability to have children. Before I had really gotten deep into fandom or ever heard of the Downton wiki or watched through season 5, my headcanon was that in 1912 Mrs. Hughes was 45 years old and Mr. Carson was 5-8 years older than her. That's the headcanon I went with in this story. (Elsie mentions her age in chapter 16 when she and Charles start making plans.)**

**Thanks for reading! Please leave a review if you can spare a little time.**


	33. Is it Really True?

Lady Mary hurried into the library where she found her mother and Lord Grantham conferring.

"Is it really true?" she wanted to know. "Anna told me she'd heard that Carson is leaving to marry Mrs. Hughes, but I thought she must be mad."

The earl glanced at the countess and Lady Grantham replied. "She's not mad, Mary. It's true. They're getting married and moving to Ripon, where Carson has found a job."

Lady Mary was becoming agitated. "I can't believe it. Carson would never… could never leave the Crawleys."

"He and Mrs. Hughes were right here in this room not a half hour ago, telling Matthew and me their news. We'll miss them both terribly."

"I don't know about _her_, but we'll be lost without Carson," Lady Mary remarked. "How could Mrs. Hughes be so selfish?"

Her mother reprimanded her. "Mary! You're the one being selfish. Carson and Mrs. Hughes have just as much right to be happy as you, and since they're willing to leave, as they know they must, then why shouldn't they be married?"

"You don't understand, Mama," Lady Mary said dismissively before turning her eyes on her cousin. "I suppose you agree with her, Matthew."

"I'm glad that Carson and Mrs. Hughes are going to be married. They're well-suited and I know they will be happy together." He pinned Lady Mary with a look that dared her to disagree. "It's not my business how they choose to live their lives once they've left our employ, which will be in three weeks' time."

"Three weeks!" Lady Mary was angry, but she was getting nowhere with her mother and cousin, so she stalked out of the room, slamming the library door behind her.

#####

Mr. and Mrs. Carson knew that their news would be all over the house before they had a chance to make any kind of announcement, but they could hardly tell the staff about their plans before they had given their notice. Now the floodgates were open and they were the topic of almost every conversation going on in the house. Lunch was not a pleasant affair for either of them, although Mr. Carson was far more disconcerted by the attention than his wife.

"Is it really true?" Thomas asked skeptically. "That you're to be Mr. and Mrs. Carson soon?"

"Yes, Thomas, Mr. Carson and I are going to be married in just a few weeks," Mrs. Carson answered calmly.

"And you're leaving Downton?" Anna questioned them.

Mrs. Carson answered again. "Yes, Mr. Carson's got a job in Ripon and we'll be moving there."

"Why can't you stay at Downton?" William wanted to know. "It won't be the same here without you."

"A butler and housekeeper can't be married," Mr. Carson grumbled.

"I don't see why not," William persisted.

"It's just not the way things are done," the butler replied, growing more agitated.

"We don't want to cause trouble downstairs." Mrs. Carson took a deep breath, hoping she would be able to utter her next phrase without betraying her amusement. "We might not be able to keep up standards." She wasn't about to tell all of her subordinates that their primary reason for going was the fact that there was a possibility they might have a child.

Mr. Bates finally had mercy on them and squelched the questioning. "Congratulations, Mr. Carson, Mrs. Hughes," he said pleasantly. "I'm sure we're all very happy for you." He gave a few significant looks to some of his colleagues and many followed suit, wishing the couple well.

Mr. Carson sent a grateful look in the valet's direction. Mrs. Carson breathed a sigh of relief and received the congratulations of the other staff with a smile. After a few minutes, Mr. Carson called them all back to their plates and the meal was finished.

#####

The family had a wide variety of reactions to the news of the butler and housekeeper's impending departure. Lord Grantham and Lady Grantham were sorry to see them go, but the two seemed happy, so they accepted the situation with grace. Lady Mary was brokenhearted, though she masked this with fury at their supposed selfishness. Lady Edith didn't have a strong opinion on the subject, but she enjoyed seeing her older sister thwarted, so she gave her smiling congratulations to the couple. Lady Sybil thought it was all terribly romantic and Mrs. Crawley had a similar, though somewhat more practical opinion on the subject. She could appreciate the romance of the situation, but she also admired Mr. and Mrs. Carson for giving up good positions in favor of a loving marriage. She expected they would do well together. The dowager countess thought it was all rather scandalous, but once she could see that the butler and housekeeper were leaving Downton whether she liked it or not, she pulled herself together and offered them her sincere good wishes.

The staff also acknowledged the imminent union in many ways. Some of the younger staff thought their superiors were too old to fall in love, so there must be some other reason they were getting married, while others thought it was romantic. Mrs. Patmore, Mr. Bates, William, and Anna, among a few others, were truly happy for the couple, though they would miss their departing seniors. Thomas and Miss O'Brien tried to find a way to use the circumstances to their advantage, but since the engagement was not a secret, there was little they could really do with the information.

The village had too many reactions to catalog, but Mr. and Mrs. Carson were happy to know that they had friends and supporters in both the house and in the village. When they received further congratulations at church on Sunday, a number of invitations were extended for tea at their new home in Ripon once they had settled in.

#####

Mrs. Carson was in the kitchen with Mrs. Patmore one afternoon hearing about Lord Grantham's plans to send her to London for treatment of her cataracts, when Anna came looking for the housekeeper.

"Mrs. Hughes," she said worriedly. "Lady Mary's asking for you."

Mrs. Carson was surprised. "Lady Mary? I'm surprised she wants to speak to me at all."

Anna wrung her hands. "I'm afraid she's in a foul humor, but she wants to see you. She's in her room."

Mrs. Carson sighed. "Wish me luck," she jested grimly, leaving the kitchen and heading for the stairs.

"Wish you luck with what?" Mr. Carson asked, coming upon her in the corridor.

"Lady Mary has summoned me, Mr. Carson, and I have a feeling it's not just for a friendly chat."

Mr. Carson didn't say anything, but he watched his wife climb the stairs with a feeling of trepidation.

Mrs. Carson knocked on Lady Mary's door and entered when she was invited in. The young woman stood up from where she was seated at her dressing table and faced the housekeeper, who stood a few feet inside the door, left partially open.

"Mrs. Hughes," Lady Mary greeted her coldly.

"How can I help, milady?"

Lady Mary raised her chin so she could direct her most imperious expression down on Mrs. Carson. "You can help by leaving Downton, alone, and never coming back."

_To be continued…_

**We all knew that Mary wouldn't take it well, didn't we? ;-)**

**Please leave a review if you can spare a few moments.**


	34. I Beg Your Pardon?

"I beg your pardon?" Mrs. Carson wasn't sure she had heard correctly.

"You heard what I said. I want you to leave Downton - leave Carson - and never come back."

"I'm afraid that is something I cannot do."

"You mean it is something you _will not_ do," Lady Mary remarked scornfully.

Mrs. Carson was very angry now, but she tried to keep her temper. "I neither can nor will leave Mr. Carson."

"How did you manage it, Mrs. Hughes?" Lady Mary demanded, advancing on the housekeeper.

"How did I manage what, milady?"

"Carson would never leave Downton willingly. Clearly you have been manipulating him in some way."

"That is a severe accusation, Lady Mary." She kept her temper, but just barely. "You have managed to insult my integrity and Mr. Carson's intelligence all at once."

Lady Mary frowned. "I have a very high respect for Carson's intelligence."

"And yet you believe him to be the victim of a manipulator."

"You are twisting my words, Mrs. Hughes," the young woman observed.

"Do you believe I have been manipulating Mr. Carson since I arrived at Downton, or have I just recently brought him under my spell?"

"Both, I imagine," Lady Mary spat out. "You must have started trying as soon as you came here, but it's taken you years to finally be successful."

Mrs. Carson no longer cared if her behavior was impertinent. "I have heard enough of this nonsense. I won't stand here and be abused." She turned to leave the room, but before she reached the door, Mr. Carson entered, looking grave.

"Milady, I must ask you never to speak to Mrs. Hughes in that way again," he told Lady Mary.

She was incredulous. "What right have you to ask me to do _anything_, Carson? I can see Mrs. Hughes has been a bad influence on you. You always used to know your place."

Mr. Carson looked at though he'd just been slapped across the face. "I do know my place, milady, and that is defending my fiancée from the kind of slander you've been speaking against her."

Lady Mary looked back and forth several times between the butler and housekeeper. Then she turned her head away and waved her hand in dismissal. "Get out."

Mr. and Mrs. Carson beat a hasty retreat before either of them could say something they would really regret. They walked down the gallery together on the way to the stairs. "Are you all right, my dear?"

"Yes, I am, Charles. But what about you? I'm afraid Lady Mary has hurt you."

"Yes, she has, by trying to hurt _you,_" he told her. "I'm very disappointed in her. I know she isn't as sweet as Lady Sybil, but I still expected better of her than this."

"How much of our conversation did you hear, Charles?"

"Most of it, I think," Mr. Carson replied. "The first thing I heard was her ordering you to leave Downton and never come back."

"You listened for quite a while before you came to my defense."

"I thought you would prefer it that way."

Mrs. Carson laughed quietly. "I suppose you're right. You know me well, my dear."

"I try, my darling."

#####

Mr. Carson poured two glasses of wine and handed one to Mrs. Carson before taking a seat facing his wife, their knees touching. "How about a toast?" he suggested.

"Why not?" she answered. "But to what?"

He looked thoughtful. "To our new life, perhaps? To the future?"

"I say we drink to second chances," Mrs. Carson suggested, raising her glass. "We both might have been married years ago to other people."

"To second chances." Mr. Carson smiled and lifted his glass. "I chose much better the second time around."

They both sipped silently for a while, each deep in thought. It was the night before their departure from Downton Abbey and they had decided to mark the occasion by meeting one last time for a drink in Mr. Carson's pantry. It was over many glasses of wine and cups of tea that they had fallen slowly in love, after all, here in his pantry and in her sitting room. They would start a new life together the next day, but they had lived full and happy lives at Downton Abbey.

Mr. Carson glanced at the clock. "It's quite late. Are you tired, love?"

"I am tired, but I'm not ready to go up," Mrs. Carson answered. "Not just yet."

He glanced around the room. Almost all of his belongings had been removed and it looked a little barren, as though it belonged to someone else. The chairs were all the same, however, and there was familiarity and comfort in sitting with her as they had so often over the years. "Do you remember the first time we drank wine together in here?"

She smiled. "Yes, very well. My first garden party as housekeeper."

"Everything went seamlessly, each detail falling perfectly into place. You were brilliant."

"You flatter me, Charles. That isn't what you told me back then."

"Didn't I?" Mr. Carson asked. "I'm afraid to remember what I really did say."

"Nothing terrible, my dear. But you invited me to share a glass of claret with you in celebration of Lady Grantham's compliments. 'We' had done well, you said, but once we were seated you went on to name all the things that had not gone as planned."

He grimaced at this description. "You must have thought me overly fussy."

Mrs. Carson smiled. "I did rather, if I'm honest. But after a while I understood that it was just your way. You were - still are - a perfectionist and you unconsciously looked for the slightest errors in everything that you or your staff did. You have always taken your job very seriously and there is nothing wrong with that."

"Thank you, Elsie. That's very forgiving of you."

"It's lucky for you that I'm a perfectionist as well," she told him. "I'm just not quite so upset by little mistakes. There's no undoing the past, so there's no use crying about it."

"You've been taking care of me for a long time, I think."

"Yes, I suppose I have. We make a good team."

He smiled. "In more ways than one."

Mrs. Carson reached for her husband's hand and squeezed it. "I love you."

He squeezed back. "I love you, too."

"I never could have guessed when I first came to Downton that I would find you - that I would find love. But I suppose one rarely sees love coming."

"No, it usually takes you by surprise," Mr. Carson replied. "It can even be a little frightening."

"Yes," she agreed. "I know you loved Alice when you were young, but I had never been in love before and I found it both wonderful and terrible all at once."

"Why terrible?" he wondered.

She smiled at the memory. "I sometimes felt like I wasn't in full control of myself. I lay awake at night thinking of you. My heart pounded, my hands trembled, and my breath grew shallow anytime you were near, and even sometimes when you were not."

"That sounds familiar," Mr. Carson chuckled. "I was suffering right along with you."

She smiled. "After a while I learned to manage it, but the strange physical sensations and difficulty sleeping or concentrating were still always with me. I felt like a silly schoolgirl, but I didn't care. I was glad that I would not die without experiencing love."

"What did Alfred Lord Tennyson write? 'I hold it true, whate'er befall; I feel it when I sorrow most.'"

"''Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,''' Mrs. Carson finished. "Only I didn't feel like I was losing you - just that you would only ever be my friend."

Mr. Carson nodded gravely. "I will still always be your friend. Love hasn't changed that."

"I know, my darling," she murmured. "I know."

He drained his glass. Hers was already empty. They rose together, their hands still joined, and left the pantry. They were the last of the staff to go upstairs. When they reached the point where they must go their separate ways, they stood still for a few seconds, lost in each other's eyes. Then Mr. Carson took his wife's hand and kissed it, then released it.

"Good night, my dear," he whispered.

"Good night." And for the last time, they parted for the night.

_To be continued…_

**Please leave a review if you can spare a few moments. Thanks for reading!**


	35. Farewells

Mr. and Mrs. Carson stood together in the stairwell, just behind the green baize door.

"Are you ready, Mr. Carson?"

"I am. And you?"

"As ready as I'll ever be!" Mrs. Carson replied, opening the door. They walked side-by-side to the front doors, which stood open for them. When they stepped out, the family and the staff were lined up as though waiting to greet an important guest. Mr. and Mrs. Carson had already said their goodbyes downstairs, but now they were faced with the Crawleys, or most of them. Lady Grantham stood with Lord Grantham to her left and Ladies Edith and Sybil to her right. On the other side of the door were the dowager countess and Mrs. Crawley. Every one of them was gracious with their farewells and good wishes, although the elder Lady Grantham seemed a little uncomfortable and said very little. Her daughter-in-law did more talking than anyone else.

"Carson, Mrs. Hughes, we can't possibly thank you enough for all that you've done for this family over the years," she told them sincerely.

The young earl spoke next. "We'll miss you both very much, but we wish you great happiness together."

The two young ladies wished them well and shook hands with the departing butler and housekeeper. The dowager countess and Mrs. Crawley gave their formal goodbyes and Mr. Branson opened the car door. The Crawleys had insisted on providing the couple transportation directly to their new home in Ripon. Mrs. Crawley had pointed out to her son that carrying all of their belongings to the village and then on a bus would be awkward and uncomfortable and he had immediately determined that they should travel by motorcar.

Before they climbed into the car, however, Mrs. Carson returned to stand before Lord Grantham and the younger Lady Grantham. "Mr. Carson and I are so sorry that Lady Mary isn't feeling well enough to see us off," she began. "But please do let her know that she will always be welcome in our home should she wish to pay us a visit. Just as all of you are."

Lady Grantham was touched by Mrs. Carson's concern for her eldest daughter. Both women knew the real reason for Lady Mary's absence, which gave the countess a true appreciation for the olive branch as well as for the woman who offered it. "Thank you, Mrs. Hughes. We'll be sure to let her know, won't we, girls?"

Lady Grantham was not the only person who was touched by Mrs. Carson's words. Mr. and Mrs. Carson climbed into the car and were on their way. Mr. Carson would have kissed his wife if Mr. Branson hadn't been in the front seat. "Thank you, my dear," he murmured. "That meant a lot to me."

She smiled. "Perhaps she'll come round, Charles. You never know."

Mr. Carson returned her smile and took her hand.

#####

As soon as the car was out of sight the family slowly returned to their usual activities - all but Lady Sybil, who hurried back inside and up the stairs. She knocked on her sister's bedroom door, but didn't wait to be invited in. Lady Mary sat on the side of her bed farthest from the door, so her back was turned when her sister entered.

"If you've come to lecture me about ingratitude, you're wasting your breath, Mama," Lady Mary declared. Lady Sybil crossed the room and sat next to her sister. "Oh, Sybil darling, it's you. What a relief."

"Yes, it's me, and I haven't come to lecture you about ingratitude or anything else. But I do wish you had come down to see Carson and Mrs. Hughes off."

"Why should I?" Lady Mary asked bitterly.

Lady Sybil put an arm around her sister's shoulder. "I know it's sad that he's gone, but Carson will always love you, Mary."

"If he loves me, how could he leave me?"

"He couldn't stay here and be married. You know that," Lady Sybil reasoned.

Lady Mary was trying to hold on to the bitter anger that gave her the energy to continue. "Why does he need to get married at all?" she demanded, tears in her voice. "She's not good enough for him."

"Mary, don't be so unkind," Lady Sybil admonished her sister gently.

Lady Mary gave in to the angry tears that streamed over her cheeks as fast as she could wipe them away. "Well, since he _has_ decided to leave me to marry Mrs. Hughes, I'll never see him again," she vowed. "Never."

"You should consider visiting him, Mary. Carson won't be watching over you every day, but he will always be happy to see you."

Lady Mary covered her face with her hands. "Oh, Sybil," she cried. Her younger sister pulled her into her arms. "First Papa and now Carson. I just can't bear it."

As Lady Mary dissolved into weeping, Lady Sybil was brought to tears, though she could still speak. "I think I understand now, Mary. But everything will be all right. I promise it will."

For a while after that, neither of them spoke, each shedding tears on the other's shoulder. The conversation had begun as a discussion of Mr. Carson's departure, but it had evolved into the sisters mourning their father.

As their tears ebbed, Lady Sybil spoke again. "Mary, you ought to know what Mrs. Hughes said to Mama about you."

Lady Mary stiffened. "What right has she to say anything at all about me?"

"She said she was sorry you didn't feel well enough to see them off, and that you will always be welcome in their home."

"She said that? After what I said to her..."

"She knows Carson loves you and she loves Carson," Lady Sybil explained. "She did it for him, in spite of the fact that you insulted her."

"I don't know what to say. Except perhaps I _do_ need that lecture on ingratitude."

"You might do well to give Mrs. Hughes more credit."

"You seem to be a great defender of Mrs. Hughes," Lady Mary commented, but without venom.

"Carson's always supported you, but he wasn't the only person downstairs who could comfort a little girl or a young lady in trouble or grief."

"And I suppose Carson needs someone to comfort _him_," mused Lady Mary.

"You should have seen Carson's face when Mrs. Hughes mentioned you to Mama. He was looking at her like she was the most beautiful and wonderful thing he'd ever seen. I hope I can find a man who will look at _me_ like that."

"Preferably before you're as old as they are," Lady Mary remarked, suddenly laughing.

Lady Sybil was taken by surprise at her sister's jesting tone and couldn't help giggling herself. She hugged Lady Mary again, but this time they were both smiling through their tears.

#####

With a little direction from Mr. Carson, Mr. Branson pulled up to the little cottage on the outskirts of Ripon and helped carry the Carsons' few belongings inside. He offered to drive them to the Register Office for their ostensible appointment, but they told him they preferred to walk, so he shook Mr. Carson's hand, wished them both well, and drove away. Mr. and Mrs. Carson walked down the street, but a few minutes later, once they were sure that Mr. Branson was well on his way, they turned back toward their new home and went inside.

"What do you think, Elsie?" Mr. Carson asked, showing her their new rooms. "It must be strange to have your new home chosen for you."

"Not really," she answered. "That's how it works when you're in service. You find a job and they give you a room. This is better, because I know you chose it with just us in mind."

"I did," he confirmed. "I wanted you to be comfortable."

Mrs. Carson looked out the front window. "You brought in a maid, didn't you? So I wouldn't have to clean it up when we arrived."

Mr. Carson smiled, pleased that she had noticed. He approached her and wrapped his arms around her from behind. "There's tea in the kitchen, too, and a few other necessities, though we'll need to go shopping soon."

"Shall we have some tea, Charles?" she asked softly.

"Yes, that sounds lovely."

_To be continued…_

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	36. Tea and Sunshine

**Special thanks to deeedeee for her help with this chapter.**

Elsie put the kettle on the stove and went through all of the cupboards to see what was there. She hadn't had any use for her old tea set at Downton, so it had stayed on a shelf, but she was glad to have it now. She found a tea tray on a low shelf, placed her tea set on it, and opened a small basket that Mrs. Patmore had given her. By the time she had put some of the shortbread on the tray, the kettle was boiling and Elsie took it off the heat and filled the teapot. She checked one more time to make sure everything was in place, before carrying it to the parlor. She found Charles looking out the window.

"The tea is ready, darling," Elsie announced.

He turned to her with a smile. "Thank you." He took the tray from her and set it on the low table in front of the settee and they both sat down. Elsie prepared his tea and then her own.

"It's lovely, Charles," she complimented him. "You've chosen the perfect home for us."

Charles kissed her cheek. "I'm so glad you like it."

Elsie turned to meet his gaze and couldn't look away. The brightness of the sun was muted only slightly by the light-colored curtains and she could see things she had never noticed before. The lines on Charles's face, some deep and some shallow, indicated a man of many emotions. Yes, he had frown lines, a product of his occupation, but he also had smile lines. In the dim light of their evening meetings, Elsie had never noticed the true color of his eyes, and when they met during the day, she could never study him as she would have liked. Where before she had known his eyes seemed a brownish color, now she could see that they were hazel - brown and green with little flecks of gold. Elsie wondered what he was thinking as he scrutinized her face just as closely.

Charles was mesmerized by her as his eyes caressed her face. He had known she had blue eyes, but in the sunlight they were much brighter than he had seen them before. Even during the day, the downstairs area was not as light as their new sitting room, and he had never seen them looking the way they did now. Next, his eyes were drawn to her lips. He knew those lips well - had felt them touch his skin - and he could see them perfectly well even in the shadows, but in the lightness of the sitting room, they were more alluring than ever. However, he felt like he was under some kind of spell and, even though he wanted to kiss her, he stayed still, aside of taking an occasional sip of tea.

Elsie couldn't help smiling at him. She had been happy to find that Charles loved her, happy when they married, and happy when they made love. This moment, however, rivaled all of the others for the happiest of her life. She sat beside her husband, not touching him, and drinking a cup of tea, and she felt more contented than ever before. There had always been an underlying uncertainty and anxiety at Downton, but now they were together as they truly should be and the closest thing to a worry Elsie felt was knowing that she would have to visit the grocer soon to stock her kitchen. At last they were free.

Charles returned her smile and reached out to touch her face. His thumb came to rest gently on her lips and he caressed them so softly she _almost _wasn't sure if he were touching her at all. He _was_ touching her, however, and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Elsie still couldn't bring herself to break the spell by moving. She wasn't even drinking her tea anymore and it grew cold in the cup she held.

Charles was the first to break eye contact. He took her cup from her and set it on the table, along with his own. He reached for one of Elsie's hands, kissed the back of it, and then the inside of her wrist, before placing her hand on his chest. He then did the same with her other hand. With his hands covering hers, he slowly bent to kiss her tenderly. It was a slow and soft kiss, but it left them both breathing unsteadily. In the light of day, Elsie could see that her husband's pupils were dilated, something else she had never noticed before. At last she moved, touching her forehead to his. "I love you, Charlie," she whispered.

He laughed, soft and low. "I wondered when you might call me that."

"I told you I'd save it for a special occasion. This is a special occasion, isn't it?"

"Yes, of course. But I had thought you might use it on our wedding day."

"I had to call you Charles at the ceremony and after that I simply forgot," she explained.

"Well it doesn't matter now," he told her. "The name is yours to use as you please."

"Thank you, my dear," she replied. "I'll put this tray away." Elsie took their tea things back to the kitchen before returning to the sitting room.

"Will you sit on my lap, Elsie?" Charles asked, reaching out for her.

She smiled and did as he asked, resting her head on his shoulder. "You smell so good, Charlie."

"So do you, darling. It drives me a little mad how nice you smell."

"Good," she whispered in his ear. "I like you a little mad."

They sat together like this for quite a while, neither speaking nor moving - only breathing. The windows were closed, but the birds just outside could still be heard singing their springtime songs. Charles began rocking Elsie from side to side and she was lulled almost to sleep by her warm and comfortable surroundings. He trailed his fingers slowly up and down her arm, but when they strayed up her neck and into her hair, Elsie jumped.

"What are you doing?" she wanted to know.

Charles pulled his hand away. "I'm sorry, Elsie. I was just-"

"It's all right, my dear. I don't mind. I was just a little startled."

"You were nearly asleep, weren't you?" he asked.

"I was," she admitted.

"Perhaps you'd like to go to bed?" he suggested.

"What do you mean by that?" she wondered.

"It can mean whatever you want it to. A bed is a very versatile piece of furniture."

Elsie laughed, shaking her head. "Why are we having this conversation, Charlie?"

"What do you mean?" Charles was confused.

"We both want the same thing, but we're avoiding it for some reason."

"Nerves?" he suggested doubtfully. "It doesn't seem likely. It's not as though this is new to us."

"We're not used to being alone together during the day," Elsie pointed out. "It's… different somehow."

Charles nodded. "That is true."

"But perhaps we _would_ be more comfortable in bed," she remarked. "One way or another."

He smiled. "Lead on, then, my love."

_To be continued…_

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	37. In the Bedroom

It was the bed, perhaps, that finally spurred Elsie into action. She and Charles stood beside it, once more still and silent, but not for long. She grasped his necktie and tugged him down for a kiss. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, returning her kiss with fervor. Though caught in his tight embrace, Elsie frantically tried to untie his tie, but Charles stopped her.

"We don't need to hurry, Elsie," he said softly, pulling away from her. "In fact, we may enjoy going slowly."

Elsie nodded, a smile creeping over her lips. Her hands moved to his tie again, but she focused her attention on very slowly removing it and placing it, neatly folded, on the bedside table. Next she moved her hands to his waistcoat buttons, but Charles brushed away her hands.

"It's my turn now," he murmured.

He reached for the buttons of her blouse and unbuttoned them, one at a time, so slowly that Elsie almost pushed his hands away to do it herself. She tried to be patient, however. Charles was right; they could take as long as they liked. They were accustomed to making love in a hurry, but now they didn't have to.

Once her blouse was unbuttoned and had floated to the floor, Charles allowed Elsie to unbutton his waistcoat and let it slide over his shoulders and down to the floor. Then he removed her skirt and she helped him out of his shirt. He stopped and reached out to touch her, tucking a stray wisp of hair behind her ear.

"You are beautiful, Elsie," he murmured. "So, so beautiful." She couldn't help smiling, embarrassed and pleased all at once. "I've never seen you glow like this. The sun does marvelous things to your skin." He ran a finger from her ear down her neck and, after a pause, let it follow her collarbone and then touch her skin along the edges of her shift.

He then followed the same path with his lips, planting little kisses on her skin. Elsie closed her eyes, enjoying the sensations flooding through her body. Charles lifted his hands again and ran them up and down her bare arms. He then moved his fingers to the fastenings on the front of her corset, but she gently pushed his hand away.

"If you want to remove it again in the future, you ought to learn how to do it properly," she told him.

He grinned wickedly. "Then I definitely want to know how to do it. Will you show me?"

"Of course," she agreed. "The stockings come off first." Elsie quickly unhooked her stockings and started to roll them down her legs, but her husband stopped her.

"Can I help with this part?"

"Certainly," she replied breathily.

Charles knelt on the floor in front of her and slowly rolled one stocking down from her thigh and off of her foot. He repeated the process with the other leg, letting his fingers stray to touch her skin occasionally.

Elsie could hardly speak; her voice was shaky. "The most important thing you need to know about a corset is that you should never unfasten the front without first loosening the laces." Elsie started to turn her back to him, but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"I want to try it this way," he said. She didn't understand what Charles meant, but she stayed where she was. He embraced her, his arms around her shoulders, and rested his cheek against her hair. This way he could look over her shoulder and down her back and see what he was doing, all while holding her in his arms. Elsie's breathing grew shallow as he slowly untied the laces and loosened them a bit. He stepped back a little and reached for the top fastening, but Elsie stopped him again.

"Start in the middle."

He did as she instructed, but was curious. "Why?"

"If you mistreat a corset, it can become warped and misshapen to the point that it can't be worn."

"Would that be so bad?" Charles asked, though he knew the answer.

"I would have to replace it, dear. I don't mind going without it when we're here alone, but I would never feel comfortable out in public without my corset," Elsie explained.

"Very well." He finished unhooking the corset and then laid it on a chair. "What next?"

"Hmmm," she answered, then reached out for his braces and slipped them over his shoulders before unbuttoning his trousers. They were both almost naked, still standing beside the bed.

"Are you cold, my dear?" Charles asked.

"Just a little."

"We can get under the sheets now," he suggested.

Elsie shook her head. "I want to finish undressing you first. I never have, after all. Not entirely, anyway."

His eyes twinkled. "Very true," he agreed. "Please continue."

Elsie lifted the bottom of his vest and lifted it. "Raise your arms, please." When Charles raised his arms, she pulled it up over his head and discarded it. Before she could remove his shorts, Charles was lifting her light cotton shift from her body. She stood facing him with her arms crossed over her chest, hiding her naked breasts. Her husband was a little amused, but he didn't say anything. Indeed, he didn't have long to wait before she had to use her hands to pull down his shorts, exposing her bare chest. Her eyes went wide when she saw him standing completely nude in the sunlight. Her gaze wandered up and down his body. Her heart pounded and her breathing was quick and shallow. Suddenly she was desperate to have his hands on her, to feel his skin against hers. She shed her knickers before Charles could protest and climbed into bed. He quickly followed, gently nudging her to lie on her back and kissing her. Elsie returned his kiss fervently and caressed his body with her hands. When he took one of her breasts in his hand, however, she pushed him away and sat up.

"What is it, Elsie?" Charles wanted to know.

She faced him with a wicked little smile. "I just realized that I haven't taken everything off yet."

He looked confused. "What do you mean?"

In answer, Elsie pulled a pin from her hair and laid it on the bedside table. Charles almost couldn't breathe. He had never seen her hair down. Even on the one occasion when they had been able to make love in a bed, she had left it plaited down her back. At other times, strands inevitably escaped her strict coiffure, but it was nothing like having it all down around her shoulders. She continued to liberate her locks from their pins. She almost told him that he could help her, but from the way he held his breath and watched, fascinated, as she pulled pins out, she suspected his hands might tremble too much for him to do it effectively. Elsie had almost finished letting her hair down when Charles took one of her curls between his fingers. In the bright light he could see so many colors. Just about every shade of brown and a bit of silver. It was natural art - yet another facet of her beauty.

When Elsie had removed all her hairpins, she lay back, her hair spread out on the pillow. "Just when I think you couldn't possibly be any more beautiful…" Charles mused. Elsie blushed. He kissed her cheek, then the corner of her mouth, then her lips, and they embraced tightly again. Charles shifted so he was on top of Elsie, though he supported himself with his arms to avoid resting his full weight on her. She kissed him harder and her caresses became more frantic. His movements were similar, but after a minute, he pulled away from her. "Let's keep it slow, Elsie," he murmured with some reluctance. She whimpered in frustration, but she was willing to do as he asked. Charles rolled off of her and teased her with his fingers. He touched her everywhere but the place she desperately wanted him to touch. His caresses wandered from her foot to the top of her inner thigh, but then moved to her stomach, her sides, and her arms.

At last Elsie could take no more. "Charlie, please," she begged.

"Please what?" he teased.

"Go as slowly as you like once you get there, but…" She wasn't sure how to continue, so she could only hope that he would understand her.

Charles did understand and took her unspoken suggestion. His movements were almost painfully slow; the tension building in her body was exquisite torment. Elsie tried to take slow breaths so she could enjoy every moment, pushing away her impatience. Charles began to kiss her neck and she moaned and grasped at the sheets. As he drove her slowly mad with pleasure, Elsie touched him wherever she could reach him - running her fingers through his hair, scratching his biceps with her fingernails, and tracing circles on his chest.

Elsie reached a shattering climax and as she recovered in the near-silence of the room, she marveled at how new it all felt, in spite of the fact that they had done this before. She opened her eyes and rolled to her side so she could touch her husband. She nibbled one of his ears and raked her fingernails gently over his chest and back, pulling his body tight against hers. Charles moaned as he rolled her over and entered her slowly. After a few strokes they were moving as one, caught up in the magic of this extraordinary encounter.

Elsie remembered their first time together. She had been wound so tightly that she had come undone almost as soon as he had touched her. The tension was relieved softly and it was the most incredible thing she had ever felt. Today, however, in this bed in their little cottage, things were quiet and slow, yet shockingly intense. Charles was astonished by Elsie's reactions to everything he did. He could always see that she enjoyed making love with him, but this encounter was somehow even more intimate than the others. Charles was acutely aware of Elsie's body and his own. His skin was more sensitive than usual and the sunlight filtering in through the curtains showed him every beautiful inch of her.

"Oh, Charlie," Elsie murmured, her breath coming faster. "It's happening again."

"Yes, it is," he panted, accelerating his pace. "Yes, Elsie. Yes, my darling."

She said nothing in response, but wrapped her legs around his waist. Her quiet moans grew more forceful until she called out his name and her body went limp. Charles followed quickly and a minute or two later was resting on his stomach, most of his weight shifted away from Elsie, but with an arm and a leg slung heavily over her body. She relished this contact, his weight. Soon they had both fallen into a blissful sleep.

#####

Elsie was awakened by Charles stirring beside her. He had pulled the sheet up to cover them both and rolled onto his back. She moved closer and kissed his shoulder.

"Good morning, my dear," Elsie murmured.

"Is it really still morning?" he mumbled, turning his head to face her.

She laughed. "Probably not."

"What's so nice is that it doesn't matter whether it's morning, noon, or midnight," Charles said with a smile.

"Would you like to have some tea, Charles?" she asked him.

"I'd prefer to stay in this bed all day."

"So would I," Elsie agreed. "I'll only be gone a few minutes. I plan to bring tea right back here and we'll share it in bed." She climbed out of bed and put on her dressing gown.

"I was hoping you might skip the dressing gown," Charles remarked mischievously.

Elsie scoffed. "Cooking without any clothes on? Very impractical. Suppose I spilled something hot, Charles."

"Well, when you put it like that I can hardly argue with you," he admitted.

She bent down and kissed his forehead. "I'll be back soon." Elsie returned a little later carrying a tray laden with tea, biscuits, and a few more substantial snacks. She handed it to Charles, who was now sitting up in bed, and he situated it on his lap.

"Now be careful with the biscuits, Charles," she warned him as she dropped her dressing gown and climbed back into bed. "I don't want you getting crumbs in the sheets."

"Your tea, my darling," he murmured, handing her a cup.

They sat close together, enjoying their tea and the delicacies on the tray. "Mrs. Patmore was very thoughtful to make up a hamper for us," Elsie commented.

"She knew we would not have much to eat here until we had had a chance to go to the grocer's."

She nodded, taking a bite of her bread and cheese. "I'll send her a thank you note."

"Do you know what time it is, Elsie?"

"The clock in the kitchen said it was one-thirty," she answered. "Assuming that it is correct, it's nearly two o'clock now."

"No wonder I'm so hungry," Charles replied, gesturing to the almost-empty tea tray.

"Mhmm," Elsie agreed. Before long they had eaten everything on the tray and Charles had set it aside. His wife slid down from her seated position to lie on her pillow again and Charles followed her example.

"I love you," he told her.

"I love you, too." She kissed him and sighed contentedly. "How is it that I'm so sleepy? I didn't get up any earlier today than I do every day and I've even had a nice nap."

"But did you sleep much last night?" Charles asked her. "And for the last few weeks? I know _I_ did not. I couldn't help anticipating our move."

Elsie smiled. "You're right, my dear. I've slept very little."

"Then lie back and rest, with me right beside you," he murmured. She curled up next to him and once more he let his arm rest across her body.

_To be continued…_

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	38. Adjustment

**Hi, all! I haven't said in a while, but I really appreciate your support and reviews. My responses to your reviews have been spotty at best, but they mean a lot to me. I don't think I could write without them.**

Chapter 38: Adjustment

When Charles awoke that evening, he was alone in bed. He pulled on his dressing gown, stepped into his slippers, and went in search of his wife. He found her in the sitting room, dressed just as he was, unpacking some of her things. Elsie smiled at him over her shoulder when she heard him come in.

"I think I can have everything set up by dinnertime tomorrow," she told him. "There is not a great deal to be unpacked, but I want to make sure it's just right."

"It's wonderful living in our own home, isn't it, Elsie?" Charles asked.

"Well, I've only been here about half of the day and I've been asleep for half of _that_, but so far it pleases me very much."

There was a pause before Charles spoke. "Elsie?"

"Yes, love?"

"Are you... hungry?"

Elsie turned to look at her husband, a smirk on her lips. "I take it from your tone of voice that _you_ are."

"Yes, and I'm afraid I can't do anything about it," he lamented.

She laughed. "Check Mrs. Patmore's basket, Charles. I'll cook for you tomorrow."

His eyes lit up. "Will you, really?"

"Of course I will, my dear," she replied. "But don't expect anything very wonderful yet. I'm rather out of practice."

"But you can cook?" Charles wondered.

"I was a housekeeper-cook for a year in a small household. However, I was quite young, so I don't remember everything. I've spent the last months watching Mrs. Patmore and Daisy at work and I think it's helped to refresh my memory to some degree."

"Well, that's a relief," he responded. "All I can make are scrambled eggs and tea."

Elsie laughed. "I think you could live on eggs and tea in a pinch, but you ought to join me in the kitchen from time to time. The least you can do is learn to make toast."

Charles smiled. "Certainly. I don't imagine it's very difficult."

#####

Making toast was _not_ difficult, but Charles burnt a few slices the next morning before he got it right. He and Elsie had breakfast in their dressing gowns, but after they had eaten and cleaned their dishes, she told him she planned a trip into town.

"I'm going to town, Charles. I need to visit the grocer. You may come with me if you like, but you might find it rather dull."

"I think I'll stay here and finish unpacking," he replied. "When you return I hope to have everything in its place and the cases put away."

A few minutes later, Elsie was dressed and ready to go. She gave Charles a quick kiss and was on her way. He stepped to the front window and peeked between the curtains. He wore a whimsical smile as he watched his wife until she was out of sight. Once she was gone, Charles got dressed himself and set about the task of unpacking and organizing their things. He and Elsie had few possessions, but once he had finished setting out the trinkets they had collected over the years and put away the more practical items, the cottage really felt like home. Some of his and Elsie's prized possessions had previously been displayed in his pantry and her sitting room, so looking around their little sitting room he was reminded of their many evenings together at Downton Abbey, chatting about the day and sharing village gossip or talking about books they had read. Charles had always treasured those evenings, even long before he was in love with Elsie. With her, he could relax and be more himself. In the early years of their friendship, he was still rather formal and didn't talk much about himself, but she had gradually drawn him out, and had been more open herself.

Charles stood back from the mantel, where he had just placed several items, and assessed his handiwork. He was about to rearrange a few items when he was startled by a voice behind him.

"It looks lovely, Charles."

"Elsie!" he exclaimed, whirling around to face her. "I didn't hear you come in."

She smiled. "I didn't mean to frighten you, love."

Charles returned her smile. "You didn't frighten me. I was just a bit surprised."

"I wasn't particularly quiet coming in," Elsie remarked. "You must have been lost in thought."

"I was," he agreed. "But you can sneak up on me more easily than you used to."

She looked at him questioningly, waiting for an explanation.

"Your keys," he told her. "Back at Downton those keys announced your presence before you were even in the room."

"Do you prefer it that way?" Elsie asked, her lips twitching. "I have a key to the cottage and I still have the chatelaine. I could wear it if you like," she teased.

"You kept the chatelaine?"

"It was a gift from Mrs. Scott when I took her place, so it belongs to me. I could have left it behind for my successor, but it has sentimental value to me, so I purchased another to pass on to the next housekeeper."

"That was very kind of you," Charles said softly, taking her in his arms.

"Mmmmm."

"I missed you while you were gone."

"I was away for barely an hour," Elsie pointed out, but she kissed his cheek and smiled. "But I missed you, too."

"Good," he murmured, kissing her forehead, then her cheek, and then her lips. She tightened her arms around him and returned his kiss.

#####

"So, this is it," Elsie sighed, fussing over Charles's already perfectly arranged tie and waistcoat. "You're leaving me."

"You make it sound so dramatic," he chuckled. "I'm just going to work. I'll be back tonight."

"I'll miss you."

Charles wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. "I'll miss you, too, darling, but I won't be gone long." He bent to kiss her deeply.

"I suppose it's nothing compared to being separated during the season," she remarked, breathless from his kiss.

"Exactly."

"I'll wait for you tonight."

"You don't have to do that, Elsie," Charles told her. "I may be home very late."

She raised an eyebrow. "You know I'm used to being up late, Charles. And I can sleep late tomorrow morning if I wish. And so can _you_."

"I'm not sure I can after so many years of rising so early. Do you know that I haven't used an alarm clock in at least ten years?"

"Hmmm, well, we shall see." Elsie stood on her tiptoes to kiss Charles again. After a few seconds he reluctantly released her, donned his coat and hat, and left the cottage.

Elsie was asleep sitting on the settee with a book in her lap when Charles arrived home from work that evening. Just as he had predicted, it was very late, so he was glad to see that she had at least changed into her nightclothes. After removing his coat and hat, he quietly sat down next to her. He kissed her cheek gently and she stirred, smiling in her sleep, but she did not awaken. After watching her for a few more seconds, Charles lifted her from her seat and carried her into the bedroom, where he tucked her under the sheet and blanket. He changed into his pajamas and slipped into the bed beside her.

#####

Elsie was enveloped in warmth and softness. She was in a soft bed with soft sheets, curled up against a warm, sleeping man. She gave a great yawn and sighed happily, but the bright light coming in through the window was a shock.

"Charles, wake up!" She shook her husband.

"What's wrong?" he mumbled sleepily.

Elsie sat up in bed. "We've overslept. What room is this?"

Charles smiled and kissed her cheek.

"We have to get back to work! I'm sure someone has noticed by now that we're-"

"Elsie!" he interrupted. "It's all right! We're in our own home and no one expects us to be anywhere else."

She looked around the room, blinking hard. When her eyes returned to meet his, she smiled and sighed, letting herself fall back on the pillows. "Our own home," she murmured.

Charles lay back down beside her. "Is it beginning to sink in?"

"Yes, and it's marvelous." Elsie turned on her side to face him. "How was work last night?"

"It was rather easy," he told her. "And when we closed the restaurant, I felt odd just leaving while others finished the work."

"You felt like you should be locking all of the doors and closing up your pantry, being the last person to bed."

"Something like that. What did you do while I was gone?"

"I felt completely at loose ends, so I went for a walk. As I was returning, I met one of our neighbors, a Mrs. March. I'm having tea with her this afternoon."

Charles smiled. "I'm glad."

Elsie nodded. "Now I just need to figure out what to do with the rest of my day. A little bit of cleaning here, a visit to the shops, tea with a neighbor-"

"And don't forget me," Charles interrupted, grinning.

"How could I?" she asked, then lowered her voice. "I can hardly think of anything else when I'm this close to you."

"Good. Now come here and let me kiss you."

Elsie was happy to oblige.

_To be continued…_

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	39. Your Loving Sister

_Dear Elsie,_

_I'm glad you opened your last letter with a warning that I should sit down to read it and even gladder that I heeded your warning. Gave your notice and moved to Ripon! Married the butler! Enjoying your new life of leisure! If you say there was a reason for your haste, I'm sure there was, but I certainly want to hear your account of it. You know well enough how much I have wished this for you, but even so, you have taken me completely by surprise._

_When you turned Joe down the second time, I wondered if there was someone else, as unlikely as that seemed, given your profession, but I never heard anything to make me suspect that I was right. You mentioned Mr. Carson regularly in your letters, but even my wild imagination could not make your words out to mean he was anything more than a trusted friend. And after you wrote to tell me about Joe's visit, I heard no mention of Mr. Carson at all until now. Tell me, my dear, do you love him? Or have you married for some other reason? Does he treat you well, Elsie? From all I've read over the years in your letters, he sounds a good and honorable man, so I can hardly imagine otherwise. Any answers to these questions will satisfy me, as long as I am assured of your happiness. It will take a little more to convince me that he deserves you, but I am perfectly willing to be convinced. I hope I may meet him soon. You are both welcome at our home at any time._

_In spite of the many revelations in your last letter, you write that there is more to tell me of this whirlwind courtship, things that you can only tell me in person? You really must visit soon, or I may go mad with curiosity. What further mysteries are there to be revealed? You always were a keeper of secrets, so I ought not be surprised._

_I find your account of the Crawleys' responses to your departure very interesting, though I can't say I understand your patience with the insults of the precious Lady Mary. I should be ashamed if any daughter of mine behaved as she did. I should think you must be glad to be rid of that one, though I dare say you miss the youngest girl more than you let on._

_Do write again and tell me when you will visit, and tell me more about everything. I want to know about your home and your neighbors and what you do each day, but most of all, I want to know about Mr. Charles Carson, and how he treats my little sister. If I don't like what I hear, he will answer to me._

_Congratulations, my dear girl. I wish you all the joy in the world._

_Your loving sister,_

_Molly_

Elsie smiled as she folded the letter and slipped it back into its envelope. She set it aside and poured herself a second cup of tea.

"How is Molly?" Charles was seated on the settee beside her, nibbling on a biscuit.

She looked bemused. "I'm not sure, except that she's glad I got married. She's written nothing here about her health or the family or anything. I think I shocked her with my last letter."

"I'm not surprised," he replied. "Did you tell her exactly how long ago we married?"

"No, but I intend to, whenever I see her next. I don't like the idea of putting that into a letter."

He nodded. "I don't blame you."

"I thought I might ask her to visit, but I'm not sure if that's practical," Elsie commented.

"Why not?"

"We haven't any extra space and I wouldn't like to ask Molly to sleep in the sitting room."

"Of course not," Charles agreed. "I'll sleep in the sitting room and Molly can sleep with you."

"I don't mind sharing with my sister, but I don't imagine you could possibly sleep on that little settee. It's so much smaller than you that you might be more comfortable sleeping on the floor!"

He shrugged. "Whatever it takes. I know you would like to see Molly."

"I wonder if Mrs. March has a cot we could borrow. She seems to receive frequent visits from members of her family."

"You should ask her, then," Charles told her. "But if it doesn't work out, you can always go see Molly."

Elsie shook her head. "No. I want her to meet you and I know you won't be able to get time away from your job anytime soon."

He smiled. "Very well. I'm sure we'll figure something out. I look forward to meeting her."

"And she very much wishes to meet you. She wants to be certain you're treating me properly." Her eyes twinkled.

"Oh dear. I hope I pass inspection."

"You needn't worry, darling," she assured him. "It won't take her very long to see that I'm on the verge of being spoilt by my husband."

Charles laughed. "It's no more than you deserve, my love."

"Well, I don't mind you spoiling me a little, but I really must find something to do with my time."

Charles frowned. "I wouldn't mind, but if you work during the day we will barely see each other."

"It doesn't have to be a job, but I don't think I can continue like this."

"Do you have any ideas?"

Elsie nodded. "The church and the hospital always need help. Maybe the library as well. But you needn't worry that we will never see each other. I didn't marry you so we could spend all our time apart."

Charles was relieved. "I hope you find something to your taste, then. I'm can't say I'm surprised that keeping house here isn't enough to occupy your time."

She shook her head, smiling. "I'm afraid it isn't. Not after working at Downton for so long." Elsie noticed that Charles looked troubled and took his hand. "What's wrong, love?" she asked.

"Elsie, are you happy here?" he wanted to know. "I know it's not ideal-"

"Charles, I'm very happy," she interrupted. "Just because I need to make a change in my routine doesn't mean something is wrong. I'm simply adjusting to my new life."

"Of course." His smile returned. "I look forward to hearing about everything you find to do."

"Good!" Elsie kissed his cheek. "Shall we go for a walk? I could use some exercise."

"An excellent idea, my dear. Let me get your coat."

#####

_Dear Molly,_

_I'm glad you found my letter entertaining. I knew you would be surprised. I'm sorry I could not invite you to witness our civil wedding ceremony, but the situation was rather complicated. I will tell you more when we are together next, which I hope will be very soon. I can't invite you just yet, but I hope sometime in the next month or two, you will come to Yorkshire to see me and to meet my Charles._

_I can answer some of your questions now. Charles and I really were nothing more than good friends for many years, but at some point I began slowly falling in love with him. Joe's visit forced me to consider my feelings, and it was then that I realized I could never leave Downton as long as Charles was there. If I stopped writing of Charles after that point, I did not do so purposefully. Perhaps I was hesitant to speak of him for fear that I would give away the feelings I intended to keep secret for the rest of my life. I do love him, and am fortunate that he loves me in return. Charles is, indeed, a good and honorable man, and he treats me very well. I don't know if I can properly express how happy I am._

_As for the Crawleys, I will not deny that I do miss Lady Sybil a bit, but the rest I feel no special attachment to. Charles misses his dear Lady Mary, although her behavior right before we left wounded him more than he will admit. I don't know if I will ever understand him when it comes to the little minx, but I am willing to give her another chance, should she choose to seek us out. She is a selfish girl, but I think there may still be hope for her, though I doubt we will ever be good friends. I also miss some of my colleagues at Downton Abbey, but now that we are settled in our home, I hope to invite some of them to have tea with us soon._

_I am glad that you were not present for my first attempts at cooking. It had been so long since I prepared my own food that I did not remember everything I learned from Ma and from my work as a cook all those years ago. You would have laughed to see it, Molly, but Charles was very patient. He could hardly be any other way, as his own first attempts at making toast failed quite spectacularly. I am happy to report that he has now mastered toast and that my skills have improved greatly as well._

_Charles and I have the morning and part of the afternoon together every day and all day Sunday, which is lovely. When he goes to the restaurant, I sometimes take tea with a neighbor. I also have plans to help out at the church and the hospital for a few hours every morning. I can't bear to be idle, so I must find something to do. I do occasionally like to stay at home and enjoy a little quiet time - something I have not been able to do for many years._

_I hope you and your family are well. I will write as soon as everything is settled for your visit._

_Your loving sister,_

_Elsie_

#####

Elsie sang softly to herself as she went to wake her husband. She had developed a routine of rising before him, preparing breakfast, and then waking him up. "Rise and shine, lazybones," she told him, kissing his forehead.

Charles smiled. "What do you mean by calling me that?" he mumbled, not opening his eyes.

"The sun is up and you're still in bed," she explained, placing her hand on his shoulder and shaking it gently. "Open your eyes, my silly man."

Opening his eyes, he took her hand from his shoulder and tugged her a little closer. "I can't wake up until you kiss me properly, my dear."

Elsie rolled her eyes, but she complied. While she was leaning over him, Charles hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her down on top of him. She laughed quietly and then kissed him again. "There, now I've kissed you properly."

"And I am wide awake now, love, just as I said I would be," he rumbled, kissing her again.

Elsie put up no resistance. Breakfast would be cold by the time they got around to eating it, but it was a small price to pay. Charles's hands were already creeping under her skirt and she closed her eyes and sighed with pleasure. Soon he had pushed her skirt up to her hips and she knelt over him, one knee on either side of his thighs. As his fingers rose ever higher, she unbuttoned his pajama top and ran her hands over his bare chest. She kissed him again and then shifted to her left, in order to lie on her side next to him, but Charles held her to him. "No, Elsie. Stay there."

She remained draped over his body. "Why?"

"There was one night back at Downton… It was much more awkward. I was sitting on a chair and-"

"And we were interrupted by Lady Sybil making noise in the kitchen. I remember," she breathed. Elsie _did_ remember. It had been a frustrating time for them both.

"Well… we could try it again. There's no one in our kitchen."

"If you really want to…" She was uncertain, but the look in his eyes told her that he was very sure of what he wanted at that moment. "All right, then. But-"

"Don't worry, Elsie," Charles interrupted, understanding her hesitation. "We'll learn together."

She simply nodded, then sat back so she could untie the drawstring on his pajama bottoms. Somewhat awkwardly, she helped him remove the rest of his clothing, and returned to her previous position. Charles was completely naked and Elsie was completely clothed; she had not even removed her shoes. She sat still for a few moments.

"Now you just-"

"I _know_ what comes next, Charlie," she told him, a twinkle in her eye. She shifted over him and they slowly slid together, moving into place and sighing in unison. Elsie paused here, eyes closed and breathing rapid. "Now I move - yes?"

"Yes," Charles groaned. "Yes, you do."

She moved and was rewarded by another groan from her husband and a variety of new sensations darting through her own body. Elsie moved tentatively at first, but she didn't need to ask Charles if she was doing what she should. His responses, as well as her own, urged her to continue. She pressed close to him and then pulled back, again and again. Elsie's movements gradually quickened and after a while, Charles moved his hips against hers, pushing their bodies even closer together. Her legs were tiring, but the glorious end arrived quickly and she collapsed on top of him, trembling and sweating as he placed tiny kisses on her skin, anywhere his lips could reach. They lay some time together in silence, catching their breath. Elsie moved to lie beside her husband. She lay still for a while with her eyes closed, saying nothing, while Charles raised himself up on his elbow to look at her.

"You're marvelous, my dear," he murmured, kissing her nose.

Elsie smiled. "You are, too, Charlie. I'm going to be smiling all day. The nurses will wonder what is wrong with me when I turn up for my shift at the hospital."

Charles kissed her lips softly. "I'm so glad you've found some things to occupy yourself. I can tell it makes you happy."

She opened her eyes, a questioning expression on her face. "Can you really?"

He nodded. "I can. You didn't really seem _un_happy before, but ever since you started helping at the church and the hospital, you're so lively and merry."

"I suppose you're right, then. I do enjoy it, although it is very different from what I did at Downton."

"It's the same for me," he told her. "I'm still adjusting to having far less responsibility than I did before, but I do enjoy my work."

"I'm glad, Charlie. I really am." Elsie sat up in bed. "Now I'd better change out of this dreadfully creased clothing and eat my breakfast or I'll be late."

Charles quickly put his pajamas back on and helped his wife get dressed. They went to the kitchen to eat their cold breakfast and Elsie hurried off, buttoning her coat as she dashed off to the hospital.

_To be continued…_

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	40. News

_Dear Elsie,_

_Life of leisure, indeed! Sundays off and half days the rest of the week? That sounds like a holiday to me, especially since you are not working. I do look forward to visiting Yorkshire soon. As I told you before, you have got me very curious about your sudden marriage. I can't wait to hear more. I look forward to sampling your cooking, as well._

_I'm glad you've married someone you love. Times of trouble are much easier to bear when you and your man are on the same side. I didn't understand why you turned Joe down twice, but it makes more sense to me now that you've explained it. I am sorry for him, but neither of you would have been happy if you had married him while you loved another. What a relief that you realized you shouldn't accept him!_

_You're a better woman than I am, when it comes to that Crawley girl, Mary. I don't think I would consider welcoming her into my home after she'd insulted me like that. I suppose it may not come to that, in the end. There is no telling whether she will ever visit. Good riddance, I say. You may not choose to hold her responsible for her insults, but I will do it for you. However, we'll say no more on that subject. You must do what you think is right._

_I'm sorry for the delay in responding to your last letter. I've written the above in bits and pieces over the last month and have only now had the chance to finish writing and to post it. My newest granddaughter made her appearance a few weeks earlier than she was expected and I have been busy helping Christina with the bairn. Your great niece, Emily, is a lovely wee lass and perfectly healthy in spite of her early birth._

_All my best to you and Charles._

_Your loving sister,_

_Molly_

#####

One afternoon a few weeks later, Elsie walked slowly home from town. In spite of the hour, she was exhausted and, although it wasn't a long walk, she wished she were home, dozing on the settee or in bed. She was glad Charles would be there when she returned home. He would help her out of her coat and hat and make tea for her if she wanted it or he would just sit and talk with her.

"How are you, my dear?" he asked when he met Elsie at the door.

"Tired," she answered, letting him take her coat as she removed her hat. "I just want to sit down."

Charles took her hand and led her to the settee, where they both sat down. Elsie immediately curled up beside him and he put his arm around her shoulders. He wondered if she were ill, but he did not voice this concern at that moment.

"I've been thinking," she said, unsuccessfully trying to stifle a yawn.

"Yes?"

"I don't think we'll have Molly to visit just yet. I'll ask her to come in January or February."

Charles was puzzled. "Really? We've solved the problem with the sleeping arrangements. I thought you were impatient to see her."

"I am," Elsie replied. "But I'd like Molly to be here when our child is born."

The room was silent for a few seconds. "Our child?" Charles asked cautiously.

She sat up so she could look into his eyes. Her smile and the slight flush on her cheeks told him all he needed to know. He immediately pulled her into a tight embrace. Charles couldn't say much beyond the jumble of whispered endearments that issued from his lips. He eventually loosened his grip on her and sat back so he could look at her. "I love you," he murmured.

"I love you, too." Elsie laughed softly as happy tears ran down her cheeks. She felt just as overwhelmed as her husband did. Years ago she had accepted without regret that she would never have a child of her own, but now that her circumstances had changed beyond what she had anticipated then, she was very happy.

"How do you feel, Elsie?" Charles asked. "Tired, you said. Do you need to take a nap?"

"Tired, yes," she agreed. "But happy. A little nervous, but definitely happy. What about you?"

"Not so tired, but otherwise about the same. I've been worried lately, love. I'd wondered if you were ill." He smiled and kissed her cheek.

Elsie shook her head, smiling. "Not ill, thank heaven. At least not in any way I shouldn't be."

"But you didn't answer my other question," he pointed out. "Would you like to go to bed? Or if you like, you can sit here and I'll make you some tea. Whatever you wish, love."

Elsie really wanted to go straight to bed, but a stubborn part of her refused to give in right away. She also didn't want to leave Charles just yet. She asked for tea and he went to the kitchen to make it for her. She felt utterly spoilt, in the best possible way. She was relaxing on the settee while her husband was in the kitchen. She didn't wish for much, but a nice cup of tea would do her good right now. Charles not only did not mind preparing her tea, he had told her he _liked_ doing little things for her. If he were feeling tired, he had explained, he knew that she would do the same for him. Grand gestures were all very well for some people, but Charles and Elsie were the sort of people to whom the little things mattered more. Fixing a cup of tea, fetching a pair of slippers, making a special trip to the grocer's for that one forgotten item - these were the things that the Carsons delighted in doing for one another. Over the last few months, Charles had begun to occasionally feel sorry for the Crawleys and other families like them. How could people so wealthy ever know the simple joy of having the person they loved most in the world prepare a pot of tea for them to share as they enjoyed each other's company on the settee in a little sitting room? Such a thing would be seen as a chore that ought to be carried out by a servant, and the sitting room much too small for their taste.

When Charles returned with the pot of tea and a few biscuits, they drank tea together and argued playfully over the last biscuit. Charles yielded it to his wife, in the end, but as she ate it, he noticed that her eyes were nearly closed.

"I think it's time for that nap, Elsie," he told her.

"Mmhmmm." She nodded, but did not move. Charles helped her up and they went together into the bedroom. Elsie did not fight him when he put her into her nightgown and she was asleep before he had pulled the blanket up under her chin.

Charles stayed to watch her sleep for a little while before he headed back to the kitchen. He looked at his watch and sighed. He hoped Elsie would not mind scrambled eggs and toast for dinner.

#####

_Dear Molly,_

_I'm so pleased to hear about little Emily. I have news for you, too. I am pregnant. You will become an aunt in about six months. I can hardly believe it, though the doctor told me some time back that it was possible. He tells me that there is no reason the bairn will not be healthy, but I feel rather old to be a mother, especially for the first time. All the same, Charles and I are very happy. I was hoping you might visit in the next month or so, but now that I'm expecting a child, I would rather you were here when he or she arrives. I do have friends here, so you needn't worry that I'll be alone if you're not able to come, but I would love to have my sister with me for the birth of my child. Do tell me if you think you can be here._

_Being in service starting at a young age, I missed all of your pregnancies and I'll admit to being a little sorry for that. I am learning now that carrying a child is a strange and wondrous thing. It can also be rather unpleasant and uncomfortable, as I'm sure you know. I'm not sick in the mornings very often, but I am more hungry and tired than usual. It is fortunate that Charles supports us both on his salary. I can't imagine getting through a day of work feeling like this! Does it get any better?_

_Best wishes to you and the family, especially Christina and little Emma._

_Your loving sister,_

_Elsie_

To be continued…

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	41. War

"What do you want a cat for, Elsie?" Charles asked, as they walked home from a trip to the grocer's.

"I'd like someone to cuddle up next to me on the settee while you're at work, Charles."

"But I hate cats."

"That's not very nice," Elsie teased.

"Let me rephrase. I think it would be more accurate to say that _cats_ hate _me_."

"Perhaps you just haven't met the right cat."

Charles rolled his eyes. "Elsie, do be serious."

"I _am_ serious. If we get a kitten and raise it ourselves it will like you. I promise."

"How can you be sure?" he wanted to know.

Elsie was about to answer when she caught sight of a familiar face. "Is that Anna?" she asked, nodding in the young woman's direction.

"I believe it is."

Before long, their paths crossed and Elsie greeted the maid. "Hello, Anna. How are you?"

"Hello, Mr. Carson, Mrs. Carson," Anna replied respectfully. "I'm very well. And you?"

"We're quite well," Charles answered. "How are things at Downton?"

"Very busy. The garden party for the hospital is tomorrow and you know how much work that is."

"Her ladyship is hosting the garden party, then?" Charles wondered. "Even though she's still in mourning?"

Anna nodded. "She's just gone into half-mourning and she decided it was important to continue the tradition," she explained. "It's for charity, after all, and she wants his lordship to be seen by the county as head of the house."

"Half mourning already," Elsie mused. "I can hardly believe it's been six months."

"Yes," Anna agreed. "A great many things have happened in the last six months." Her lips twitched.

Elsie and Charles shared a glance and Elsie laughed a little. "Yes, a great many."

"Well, I have to be going now, Mrs. Carson, Mr. Carson. It was nice seeing you."

"Goodbye. I hope all goes well tomorrow," Charles said and the young woman was on her way. He turned to Elsie. "I think I must be well and truly settled into my new role in life."

"What do you mean?"

"I hadn't thought about the garden party at all, or the Season, or any other society events," he explained. "My home is here now, with you."

"But don't you miss them? The family, I mean?"

He shrugged. "Maybe a little. But I don't miss having to hide my marriage. What about you?"

"I don't miss the late nights and early mornings, you can be sure of that, though it wasn't _all_ bad."

Charles nodded. "The company made it tolerable."

"Yes," Elsie agreed, smiling. "Now let's get back to the cat."

Charles made a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a huff. "I should have known you wouldn't let it go."

She took his arm as they continued toward home. "Would it really be so terrible, Charlie?"

He tried to frown, but instead he looked amused. "You called me Charlie."

"And?"

"You don't usually call me that outside the bedroom, unless you're trying to tell me you would like to _go to_ the bedroom."

"And what if I am?" Elsie flirted.

"Are you trying to bribe me?" Charles teased.

She laughed. "I don't know, Charlie. Would it work?"

"It might," he admitted. "I'll _think about_ the cat. Will that do?"

"Very nicely," Elsie agreed. "Just think about it. We can talk about it another time."

"Why another time? Have we got something important to do right now?" he asked innocently.

"We have. I'm going to clean the kitchen and you're going to tidy up the rest of the house."

"Hmph."

They walked in a comfortable silence until they reached home. Charles unlocked the door and they went inside. After he had hung up his coat and hat, he was surprised to find his arms full of Elsie. She pulled him down for a kiss. He returned it, but he couldn't help chuckling against her lips. "What happened to cleaning the house?" he asked.

"Did you really believe I would put you off like that?"

"I wasn't sure," Charles replied. "But I'm glad you weren't serious."

Elsie smiled. "Let's go to bed, Charlie."

#####

"Thank you so much for everything, Mrs. Carson." Sarah White, a young mother of four, stood in her front doorway, seeing her visitor off.

"I'm glad I could help," Elsie replied with a smile, squeezing Sarah's hand. "I'll see you soon."

The younger woman nodded. "Goodbye, Mrs. Carson."

"Goodbye."

Elsie made her way slowly back home from her young friend's house, feeling satisfied with what she had accomplished in a few hours' time. Sarah had given birth to four children in a fairly short period of time and was feeling overwhelmed by the pressures of taking care of the children and keeping house. From what Elsie could glean, Sarah's marriage was a happy one and her husband was not a demanding man, but even keeping things in basic order had become too much for her since the arrival of her youngest child, now still an infant. Elsie had used her own skills and experience to help Sarah see the management of her own household in a way that made everything less daunting. She'd also showed her friend that even a seven-year-old child could ease his mother's load in small ways. Once the infant was weaned, Elsie thought things would be a little less difficult for Sarah, but she still planned to visit the young mother from time to time to help her with some of her cooking and cleaning.

Elsie hoped that Charles would be home when she arrived. He had still been gone on a morning errand when she had left for Sarah's house and she missed him. When she opened the front door, she did find Charles in the sitting room, but he was pacing the room in an agitated manner, with his hands clasped behind his back. Elsie knew immediately that something was very wrong. She took off her hat and coat as quickly as she could.

"Charles?" As soon as he heard her voice, Charles turned and rushed to Elsie, pulling her into his arms. "What is it, my dear?" She wrapped her arms around him and rubbed his back soothingly.

He laid his cheek on her hair. "The news is all over town."

"What news? Charles, don't keep me in suspense."

"We're at war with Germany."

Elsie was silent for a little while. "It was only a question of when, I suppose," she mused.

"Yes. It wasn't unexpected, but it's still a shock now that the news has finally come."

Charles let her lead him to the settee and they sat down together. She took one of his hands between hers. "What do you think will happen?" she asked. "Do they know how long it will last?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. There are those who believe it will be over quickly, but I hesitate to be optimistic when it comes to war."

Elsie nodded her agreement. "It's bound to be a sad business, even if it's over soon."

"Exactly." Charles kissed her cheek, then sighed. "Suddenly the question of whether or not to get a cat seems so unimportant."

She laughed a little. "It was never _that_ important to begin with."

"Wasn't it? You seemed very determined."

"Perhaps I was," she conceded. "But I wasn't going to make a feud of it, Charles. A cat isn't worth all that."

Charles and Elsie sat in silence together for a few more minutes, but eventually they resumed normal activities. However, they were both rather subdued, speaking little as they went about their daily activities. Everything seemed a little melancholy, a certain gloom settling over them. When Charles left for work, they kissed goodbye at the door as was their daily habit, but they clung to each other for much longer than usual before separating. He regretted leaving her alone.

#####

When Charles returned late that night, Elsie was still awake and dressed. When she heard his key in the lock, she abandoned her book on the settee and greeted him at the door.

"You're still up." Charles wasn't really surprised that Elsie had sat up waiting for him, nor was he surprised by the hint of desperation in her kiss. He felt the same need to be as close to her as possible. They stumbled together toward the bedroom, exchanging hurried kisses and caresses while dropping various articles of clothing between the front door and the bed. They made love, quietly and in the pitch dark, and then held each other close as their breathing returned to normal. Elsie found herself crying. However, she also felt relief from the somber mood that had oppressed her since she had heard the news of the war.

Charles shushed her and wiped her tears away, promising her that everything would be all right.

"I know it will, Charles," she assured him. "I'm not even sure why I'm crying. I actually feel far less troubled than I did earlier this evening."

He relaxed. "So do I, strangely."

Elsie smiled. "Is it so strange that making love should make us both feel better?"

Charles chuckled. "I suppose not."

"Charles?"

"Yes, love?"

"Feeling sad won't really improve things, will it?"

"No, not really."

"I haven't prevented someone's son from dying in battle by sitting up late ruminating over it all."

"No."

Elsie kissed Charles in the middle of his chest. "I'm not sorry I did, mind, since we've ended up together like this. But do you know what I mean, my dear?"

He nodded. "Yes. We must always travel in hope. We'll carry on as we always have, taking our joys and sorrows just the same as we did before."

"Exactly. And I think I can do that now."

"Yes. I love you, Elsie."

"I love you, too." Elsie could not stifle a yawn, so she shifted in bed until she was comfortable. "Good night, Charles."

"Good night. Sweet dreams."

_To be continued…_

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	42. Work

Tuesday was the only day Elsie assisted both the church and the hospital, though her stop in at the rectory would not be a long one. She would meet with the vicar's wife briefly and then make her way to the hospital. She opened the gate, walked up the path, and knocked on the door. She found the older woman waiting for her.

"Good morning, Mrs. Carson," Mrs. Stewart called out cheerfully, ushering her into the parlor.

"Good morning." Elsie smiled. "You look very merry today."

"I've just had a visit from my daughter."

"Good news, then?"

"Yes, _very_ good. She's expecting another child."

"Another!" Elsie exclaimed. "How exciting for your family."

Mrs. Stewart nodded. "Yes, quite. But don't let me start talking of it or I'll never stop and we have things to discuss."

"Yes, we do. I think we're ready for-"

"Oh, but you must tell me how _you_ are, Mrs. Carson!" Mrs. Stewart interrupted. "How could I forget to ask, after telling you my own good news? Are you well?"

"As a matter of fact I am. I feel much more myself than I did last week."

The older woman nodded, with a knowing smile. "Ah, yes, you'll begin to glow soon. All of my daughters did. Enjoy the next bit while it lasts. Soon enough you'll be wishing for it all to be over!"

"I'll remember that," Elsie replied. "For now I'm just glad I can be up and about. I can't stand to be trapped at home with very little to do."

"Yes, and you were saying you think we're ready for…"

"I think we're ready for the next few months. I've got the linen rota in order and found a few local women to do the scrubbing."

"What would I do without you, Mrs. Carson?"

Elsie waved away the compliment. "Nonsense. You just needed a little help organizing things. You already take such excellent care of the plate, and then it's only a matter of ordering enough for the weekly sacrament."

"You make it all go so smoothly, though," she insisted. "With you providing such assistance, I know everything will be exactly where it should be, when it should be there, rather than being in a constant state of agitation, fearing that I will forget something important and let down Mr. Stewart." She patted Elsie's arm. "Downton's loss is our gain."

Elsie nodded in acknowledgment of her hostess's kind words, as it was obvious there was no use in trying to argue with her. "I'm glad to be of help."

"Won't you stay for some tea, my dear?" Mrs. Stewart suggested.

"I'm afraid I can't stay. I'm due at the hospital soon."

"Very well, then. I will see you and Mr. Carson on Sunday."

Elsie nodded again and showed herself out. She smiled at the memory of her short acquaintance with Mrs. Stewart. The woman had been distant at first, but as soon as she saw that the former housekeeper of Downton Abbey would not criticize her manner of managing the sacramental articles, she had been friendliness itself. She had accepted Elsie's help with good grace and took a special interest in the Carsons. Elsie could not remember the last time she had been called "my dear" in that way by anyone other than Molly. It was usually she who called some young protegée "my dear." It was a little disconcerting at first, but she'd gotten used to it as just another part of her new life.

Now she walked to the hospital, another place where she had made herself useful in Ripon. Elsie had no medical training, but she was helpful to the doctors and nurses in other ways. She could calm a patient's distraught spouse or child, she could deliver meals to some of the patients, and she could fetch and organize linens and other items as they were needed. At the hospital she also had to adjust, in this case to no longer being in charge of a large staff, but being a member of the staff, carrying out someone else's orders. Elsie knew herself well enough to know that had the hospital been poorly run she could not have tolerated it. However, the staff was competent and the doctor who supervised them was both a good manager and a good physician, so working there several mornings a week for a few hours was satisfying to her.

Elsie pushed open the door and immediately met two young nurses. "Good morning, Susan. Hello, Madeline."

"Good morning, Mrs. Carson," the two girls replied in unison.

"Let me take your things for you," said Susan.

"Dr. Hooper would like to see you in his office," Madeline told her.

Elsie smiled. "Oh dear, you make it sound like I'm a young girl about to be disciplined by her teacher." The two nurses shared an uneasy glance and said nothing. Elsie frowned. "Well, I suppose I'd better go see Dr. Hooper, then." She made her way down the corridor and knocked on the doctor's door, entering as soon as she was invited in.

"Hello, Mrs. Carson," he greeted her.

"Good morning, doctor," she replied. "I understand you wanted to speak to me?" Although she was barely older than Dr. Hooper, she found herself unconsciously adopting the demeanor she often wore with troublesome footmen. With those young men, she had asserted her authority without words. Her posture and the tilt of her head made her meaning clear. _Don't waste my time._ Dr. Hooper, however, was _not_ a footman, so he did not respond, or indeed even notice, her bearing. He only frowned at her.

"Mrs. Carson, I won't mince words. When did you plan to tell me that you were pregnant?"

Elsie was taken by surprise at his disapproving tone and answered immediately. "I had planned to tell you next week. I don't think I could conceal it for much longer than that."

"Then it was your intention to conceal it?"

She frowned. "No, of course not! I just meant that I-"

"That you would tell me when you could no longer hide it. That _is_ what you just said, is it not?"

"I know you are getting at something, doctor, but I'm not sure what it is." Elsie's eyes were stormy. "I never had any intention of deceiving you."

Dr. Hooper took a deep breath and spoke a little more calmly than before. "Mrs. Carson, had I known of your pregnancy sooner, I would not have permitted you to continue your work here at the hospital."

"What?"

"You're an intelligent woman. Surely you must know that we treat all manner of infectious disease every day. How could you think I would have allowed you to potentially be exposed to some illness that could be a danger to your child and to you?"

"I didn't think I was in danger as it was. I have no medical training and as such have very little direct contact with patients."

"And for a woman in good health this would have been acceptable, but a pregnant woman is a different matter entirely." Elsie met Dr. Hooper's eye calmly and his anger began to abate as he saw that she understood him. "Mrs. Carson," he continued. "It's only my concern for you and your child that drives me to speak in this way."

"I understand," Elsie replied. She took a seat and spoke quietly. "Perhaps you could advise me, then, Dr. Hooper, as though I were your own patient."

He approached her, his brow furrowed in concern. "What is it you need advice about, Mrs. Carson?"

"Before I came to Ripon a few months ago, I was the housekeeper at Downton Abbey."

"Were you?" Dr. Hooper was surprised.

"I was," she confirmed. "I was accustomed to early mornings, late nights, and busy days. Sometimes it seemed the work would never be done, but it always was."

"So… what brought you here? Why did you leave Downton?"

"_Mr._ Carson was the butler. We left to be married."

His eyebrows rose. "That is quite unusual, isn't it?"

Elsie smiled. "Yes. Very unusual. And since we were married I have had no real occupation. I help the vicar's wife with the linens and such and I work at the hospital. I can't simply keep house for my husband and take tea with my neighbors. Can you understand that, doctor? I'd go mad!"

"Yes, I can see how that might be difficult," he admitted. "But I still can't allow you to work at the hospital."

Elsie sighed. "Of course not," she told him. "But is there anything you would suggest? I enjoy my work here. Is there anything I might do that would not endanger me or my child?"

"You've given me something to consider," Dr. Hooper answered thoughtfully. "I'm sure I can think of something. Just give me a day or two."

"Thank you, doctor."

"I am sorry that I can't allow you to work here. Your assistance has been invaluable and you've become very dear to my nurses in the short time you have been here."

Elsie smiled. "If that is so, they are welcome to visit me."

"I hope they will," he replied cordially.

Elsie rose from her seat. "I think I'll be going now, Dr. Hooper."

He nodded. "Goodbye, Mrs. Carson. I hope you will continue in good health."

She inclined her head slightly in reply and left the room. Susan and Madeline were waiting for her, Susan still holding Elsie's coat and handbag. "It seems I must be going, my dears," she told them as she allowed the young woman to help her into her coat.

"We'll miss you, Mrs. Carson," Madeline observed.

"We're sorry if we've made trouble for you with Dr. Hooper," added Susan. "I didn't know there was any harm in telling him after you gave us the news yesterday, but he was terribly cross."

"It's all right, girls. The doctor is right. But do come see me." Elsie found a slip of paper and wrote her address on it. "I'll be happy to give you tea anytime I'm at home."

#####

Charles and Elsie sat on the settee together. He drank his tea, but she left her cup on the tray.

"Charles, I need to talk to you about something." Her tone was serious.

"Of course," he agreed.

"I went to the hospital this morning as I usually do on Tuesdays, but Dr. Hooper sent me away," she told him.

Charles frowned. "What? Why?"

"Because I'm pregnant. I mentioned it to Madeline and Susan yesterday and they told him. He was very cross with me for not telling him sooner. He doesn't want me working in the hospital where I could be exposed to some illness that could harm me or the bairn."

"But you told me that you didn't have contact with contagious patients," he said. "You just comforted families and organized the clean bed linens and such."

"Yes, that's exactly what I did, but Dr. Hooper explained that a pregnant woman is a special case," Elsie replied.

Charles's brows drew together. "I'm sure he's right. I regret not thinking of it myself. I ought to have been the one to insist that you stop working at the hospital."

"I feel the same, to be honest. I feel foolish for not thinking of it. Even with the restrictions I was under, there was always a slight chance of some type of infection."

"So you won't go back?"

"I couldn't even if I wanted to," Elsie told him. "Dr. Hooper would turn me out."

"What are you going to do?"

"I asked the doctor if he would help me find some other occupation. I explained that I had been housekeeper at Downton and that I might go mad without something more to do."

Charles put down his cup and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "And he's going to help?"

"Yes, he said he would think about it and contact me."

Just then a knock sounded on the front door. Charles went to answer it and found a boy holding out a note to him. He took the note and thanked the child before returning to Elsie's side. "It's for you."

Elsie quickly opened the note and a smile spread over her face. "Wonderful! Dr. Hooper's found me work at the library. They need some cataloging help."

Charles laughed. "At this rate you'll have organized half of Ripon by the time our little one comes along - the church, the hospital, Sarah White, and now the library. And that's not even to mention how well you keep your own house."

She smiled. "I suppose I can't keep away from that sort of work no matter where I'm living."

"I know the feeling."

"And what about you, Charles? Have you driven the sommelier mad yet?"

He looked sheepish. "He resigned yesterday. He's found another job in York. I'm to serve as both maitre d' and sommelier. I was going to tell you about it today."

"I hope that includes a rise in salary!" Elsie exclaimed.

"Oh, it does," Charles affirmed, looking very satisfied with himself. "I insisted on it and apparently I have enough influence there that they agreed immediately."

"That's excellent, Charles! This calls for a celebration. I'll fix all your favorites for dinner on Sunday."

"Very well. But can't we celebrate now, too?"

Elsie raised an eyebrow. She thought she might understand what he meant, but she wasn't quite certain. "Now?" Charles began to kiss her neck and Elsie knew exactly what he wanted. "I think you're right, Charlie. Why wait?"

_To be continued…_

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	43. Visitors

Elsie walked around the sitting room pouring tea for her guests, while Charles was in town. Mrs. Patmore and Daisy had known before arriving that the Carsons were expecting a child, but Elsie could still feel their eyes on her expanding middle. She had almost run out of new topics of conversation, as the cook gave mostly monosyllabic replies and the young maid didn't speak at all. Elsie was beginning to feel extremely awkward, as well as annoyed. She sat down once she had handed out the cups of tea. She allowed the silence to grow before attempting conversation again.

"Mrs. Patmore, how are you recovering from your operation?" she asked. "Is your sight still improving?"

The cook smiled. "Yes, it is. I'll be able to stop wearing these glasses next week." She gestured to the dark eyeglasses she wore.

"I'm so glad," Elsie replied. Silence fell over the room once more and she finally lost her patience. "Mrs. Patmore, would you and Daisy please close your mouths?" The two women didn't answer. The cook couldn't think of anything to say. The young maid looked to Mrs. Patmore, panicked. "Presumably you've both seen a pregnant woman before," Elsie remarked. "I can't think why you feel the need to stare."

Mrs. Patmore sputtered, searching for a reply. "Of course I have. But this is different."

"Different? How?"

The cook huffed, speechless, when Daisy suddenly piped up. "Because you were the housekeeper and housekeepers don't have babies!"

Elsie was surprised that Daisy had spoken at all, but after a few moments she simply began to laugh. "Housekeepers don't marry butlers, either. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not the housekeeper anymore."

Mrs. Patmore looked bemused. "Of course we've noticed. It's just…"

"It's just that you've never seen a housekeeper and butler run off to get married," Elsie suggested.

The cook allowed herself to laugh at last. "No, I don't suppose I have, although I don't think I'd put it quite like that."

Daisy joined the conversation again. "That's right. You didn't 'run off' to get married."

"Certainly not," Elsie agreed.

"But it _is_ still unusual," Mrs. Patmore put in.

"No doubt."

The silence returned, though it was a bit less awkward than before.

"You're greatly missed, both of you," Mrs. Patmore finally murmured. "Mr. Wallace and Mrs. Anderson are poor substitutes."

"We miss you all, too," Elsie admitted softly.

"But I can see you're very happy," the cook said. It wasn't a question.

Elsie smiled, a slight flush blooming across her cheeks. "I am."

Mrs. Patmore shook her head. "Who would have thought our ever-proper Mr. Carson had it in him to make you blush like that?" she teased. Daisy covered her mouth with her hand, trying not to giggle.

"Mrs. Patmore, I'm shocked to hear you talking this way in front of one of your maids." Elsie's voice was stern, but she could not hide her smile.

Mrs. Patmore raised an eyebrow. "Daisy? Oh, she's heard worse."

"Not about one of her superiors!"

Mrs. Patmore bristled. "_Former _superior, if you please!"

Daisy couldn't stifle her giggle, but she spoke up anyway. "Don't worry, Mrs. Carson. I think it's nice that you and Mr. Carson are so happy."

"Do you?" Elsie looked curiously at the girl.

"Yes. It makes me think maybe I'll get married to a footman one day."

Mrs. Patmore looked askance at Daisy. "Now, just a minute, my girl," she scolded. "You keep your mind on your work and don't waste your time thinking about those foolish footmen."

"That's right, Daisy," Elsie agreed. "Wait to see which one of the footmen becomes butler and then marry _him._" She bit her lip to keep from laughing.

The cook was shocked. "Mrs. Carson, I can't believe you're encouraging her!"

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Patmore. I'm not sure what got into me." But she did not look the least bit sorry. "And didn't you just say that she's heard worse?"

Mrs. Patmore took a breath to deliver a stinging retort, but before she could utter it, she relaxed and just shook her head and clicked her tongue. "I suppose there's no hope for you, Mrs. Carson," she remarked.

"None at all," Elsie replied cheerfully.

"Well, I'm afraid Daisy and I have to be going. But we're glad to see you looking so well. Please give our regards to Mr. Carson."

Their hostess rose and walked them to the door. "Thank you for coming to see me."

Mrs. Patmore and Daisy said their goodbyes and were on their way. Elsie took the dishes into the kitchen and washed them, before finishing the uneaten biscuits and returning to the sitting room. She had been reading on the settee for about a half hour when her husband returned. He set down his brown paper wrapped package and took off his hat and overcoat before coming to sit beside Elsie.

"It's a shame you were gone, Charles," she told him. "Mrs. Patmore and Daisy called. They asked me to give you their regards."

"I'm sorry to have missed them," Charles replied. "But I'm sure they'll come again."

"They will," Elsie agreed. "And Mrs. Patmore told me that Anna might visit for a few minutes while she's in Ripon sometime next week."

He smiled. "That's wonderful."

"It is. I've missed them. I've missed them all, really. Even Thomas and Miss O'Brien, in a certain way."

Charles's eyebrows rose. "Do you?"

Elsie chuckled. "I think I always saw those two as a challenge. They needed to be kept under control and if I could manage that much, I felt a real sense of accomplishment."

He laughed out loud. "Only you could turn those two schemers into something positive."

"I do miss them in my strange way, but I don't want either of them to call on us."

Charles shuddered. "Perish the thought."

Elsie laughed and kissed him before going to the kitchen to make dinner.

#####

The sitting room was quiet as Charles and Elsie sat together, he reading and she mending a nightgown. She noticed that he wasn't really focused on his book - he had gone twenty minutes without turning a page and he was fidgeting in his seat. It was a little irritating to Elsie, so when she had finished her next row of stitches, she put her work back in its basket. "I'm going to make tea."

Before she could rise from the settee, however, Charles laid down his book and stopped her. He took her hands in his and looked at her very seriously. "Elsie, there's something that's been bothering me lately and I would like to put it right."

"Oh, dear. What is it, love?"

Charles shifted nervously in his seat, though he did not avoid her gaze. "It's just that…"

She freed one of her hands from his grasp and caressed his cheek. "It's all right," she murmured soothingly. "You can tell me. Whatever it is."

He nodded and took a deep breath. "I haven't forgotten that I never gave you a true proposal, Elsie. It may sound foolish, considering we've been married for months already, but I like to do things properly."

Elsie smiled, relaxing. She had been concerned that something was really wrong, but now she could see that everything was going to be fine. "It's not foolish," she told him. "It's very important to you."

He smiled. "Thank you."

"Will you propose now or some other time?"

"Now that I've told you what I want to do, I see no reason to wait."

"Go on, then," Elsie breathed.

Charles took a deep breath, holding her hands in his. "Elsie, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life by your side. Will you have me? Will you be my wife?"

"Of course I will, my sweet man," she answered shakily. "Now come kiss me." Charles pulled Elsie into his arms and kissed her deeply. Her hands crept up his chest to clasp behind his neck as she returned his kiss.

Later, when they lay in bed together, Elsie lying on her side with her head on his chest, she savored the feel of his steady breathing. She could feel her child move within her, and she fell asleep, thinking how lucky she was. She was curled up in bed with the two people she loved most - her husband and her unborn child, one created from the love of the other.

#####

The next day, when Charles had gone into town, there was a knock on the front door. The Carsons weren't expecting anyone, but they did sometimes receive unanticipated visitors. Elsie went to the door and opened it. She was flabbergasted to find Lady Mary Crawley on her doorstep, alone. After a moment of shocked silence, Elsie remembered her manners and invited the young woman in, taking her coat. Lady Mary did not speak, although she could not hide the fact that she was shocked to find Elsie pregnant. Her eyebrows had risen as her eyes had quickly surveyed her hostess from head to foot. She cursed her uncooperative tongue, trying to think of something to say. She had meant to begin with the usual pleasantries, but instead she jumped right to the real purpose of her visit. As soon as she was seated, she spoke.

"Mrs. Carson, please allow me to apologize for my behavior before you left Downton," she began, in a stilted tone. "I have had time to think about it and I am ashamed of the way I spoke to you. Carson was right to reprimand me, though I could not see it then."

"Well, milady..." Elsie was nearly speechless.

"I can see you're surprised by what I've said, which makes me even more sorry."

"It does still mean a great deal to me to hear your words, milady."

"But you never expected me to make amends," Lady Mary conjectured. "You knew I might visit Carson eventually, but you didn't expect my apology."

Elsie said nothing, refusing to voice her agreement with this suggestion. It must have been difficult for Lady Mary to humble herself in this way and Elsie had no wish to shame her further. Her manner was awkward and a little stiff, but it was clear enough that her apology was sincere.

"I will understand if you cannot forgive me, but I hope you will at least accept my apology."

"Of course I forgive you, milady," Elsie assured her. "Everyone makes mistakes."

"Thank you, Mrs. Carson," Lady Mary murmured. "Though I'm afraid my mistake was quite abominable."

"I'm glad you've come, milady. I'm only sorry Mr. Carson isn't here. He'll be sorry to have missed you."

"Will he?" Lady Mary asked, uncertainty clouding her expression. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," Elsie said with a smile. "You must know that Mr. Carson still cares about you as much as ever."

The younger woman gave her hostess a small, rueful smile. "It seems Lady Sybil was right."

"Right about what?"

"Everything. She told me that Carson would always be happy to see me."

"Quite right."

"She also told me I didn't give _you_ enough credit for being generous and compassionate."

"She's very kind." Elsie felt a little off-kilter. She never would have foreseen Lady Mary's respectful contrition, but she was pleased. The Lady Mary Crawley who sat before her at this moment was a woman she could really come to care about, and for her husband's sake she wished for peace with his young favorite.

"I hope you won't think me impertinent, Mrs. Carson, but I can see now that you're a worthy match for Carson."

Elsie raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a little smile. "I _do_ think you impertinent, but I don't mind." She stood up from her seat. "Now, let me get you some tea and we'll have a chat about what's going on at Downton."

Lady Mary smiled and gave a quick nod to Elsie, who hurried to the kitchen to put the kettle on. The young woman walked around the sitting room, surveying the decor of the little room. Then suddenly the front door opened and Charles walked in.

"Elsie, guess who I saw in town just now," he called out. He was beyond surprised when he recognized his guest.

"Lady Mary!" he exclaimed.

"Hello, Carson," she said in greeting.

The two stood in silence, each meeting the other's gaze uneasily. In spite of Elsie's assurances, Lady Mary still doubted her reception and Charles, though glad to see her looking well, could not forget that she had insulted his wife. He wondered what she was doing in his home, how long she had been there, and what had transpired in his absence. He suspected Elsie was in the kitchen and thought perhaps he should go to her, but he couldn't move, even to take off his hat and coat.

Fortunately for the uncomfortable pair, Elsie entered the room a few moments later and broke the silence. "I'm glad you're home, dear," she greeted Charles. "I was afraid you would miss our visitor." Her brow furrowed slightly. "Why on earth are you standing there as though you've been turned to stone? Take off your hat and coat and come in, Mr. Carson!"

He didn't move immediately, his expression questioning Elsie silently. She smiled, but it was her eyes that sent him the message he needed to receive. _All is well, my love._ Once reassured, he was back in motion, hurrying to shed his hat and coat so he could greet Lady Mary properly.

"The tea is almost ready," Elsie announced. "You two get comfortable and I will be right back with it." When she returned with the tea, she was happy to see her husband and their guest chatting comfortably.

_To be continued…_

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	44. Quickening

Charles closed the door behind Lady Mary and heaved a sigh of relief. He turned and crossed to where Elsie was standing and took her in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his middle and rubbed his back soothingly.

"Feel better?" she asked him.

He sighed again. "So much better."

"I'm glad she came. I knew she'd upset you."

Charles pulled away so he could look at Elsie. "And what about you? She wasn't exactly kind to you."

"No, but she wasn't my favorite. It didn't surprise me when she behaved badly, so it wasn't as upsetting to me. If it had been Lady Sybil who insulted me, I would have felt differently."

Charles scoffed. "As though Lady Sybil would ever-"

"No, she never would," Elsie interrupted. "And _that _is why she's my favorite!"

"Fair enough," Charles conceded.

"Your Lady Mary pleasantly surprised me, though. She was uncomfortable at first, but I could see that she meant every word of her apology."

"I'm so glad. It makes me happy that my two favorite girls are getting along."

Elsie laughed softly. "Let's sit down, Charles."

They sat together on the settee, his arm around her shoulders and her head resting against his chest. Elsie absently rested her hand on her rounded stomach. Charles noticed this and reached out to touch her very gently. "What does it feel like?" he whispered.

"What do you mean?"

He struggled to explain himself. "I mean, having a child _inside your body_. What does it feel like?"

"Not like anything I've ever felt before. And not what I expected."

"It feels different than _I_ thought it would," Charles told her, nodding toward her belly, which he was now caressing softly.

"Oh?"

"I have a bit of a belly," he observed, patting his own stomach. "But it's soft. Yours is different. More… firm."

"You're right."

"Can you feel him moving around in there?" Charles asked.

"I can, a little," Elsie replied. "The doctor tells me that she'll become more active in the months to come."

"She?"

She nodded. "I think it's a girl."

"How can you know that, Elsie?" Charles wanted to know.

"I can't. I just have a feeling. But what about you, Charles? Do you want a boy or a girl?"

"It doesn't matter," he told her. "I just want a healthy baby and a healthy wife."

Elsie's lips twitched. "A very diplomatic answer."

"I mean it, Elsie. It doesn't matter whether it's a boy or a girl, as long as it's healthy. And I couldn't bear losing you."

"You're not going to lose me, Charles."

"I hope not. But surely you know how dangerous childbirth can be."

"Yes," she agreed. "But there's no point in worrying over it."

"I can't help it. But I will try."

"That's all I can ask. Now I need to wash and put away our tea things. I don't like things to be untidy." She started to rise, but Charles caught her hand.

"Let me do that. Just stay right here and relax. You need your rest."

"I'm perfectly fine," Elsie protested.

"Of course you are," he replied. "And I'd like you to stay that way, so I'll take care of the tea tray."

"Very well, but let me have those leftover biscuits before you take it away. You and Lady Mary didn't eat much."

"Of course." Charles placed the biscuits on a small plate and handed them to Elsie. "You can share them with our daughter."

She smiled. "Thank you, my dear."

He kissed the top of her head and took the tray into the kitchen. When he returned, he sat back down with his wife. "Can I get you a book to read, my darling?" Charles asked.

"I don't think so," she replied. "I am a little tired."

"A nap, then?"

"I think so. But before I go to sleep, I'd like to do one more thing."

"What's that?"

Elsie ruffled his hair. "I need help getting changed into my nightgown, Charlie," she murmured into his ear.

"Are you sure that's all right, Elsie?" Charles was tempted, but also concerned.

She nodded. "Yes, Charlie, the doctor told me it's all right."

He smiled and stood up, holding his hand out to her. "Let's go, then."

Elsie took his hand and let him lead her to the bedroom.

#####

_Dear Elsie,_

_You've given me another shock with your last letter! My goodness, Elsie, what will come next? Will you be moving to the Antipodes? Or visiting the moon, perhaps? I tease, but I really am very happy for you. And have no doubt that I will be there for you when your time comes. If you don't mind, I could come a little early. so we have time to talk about your mysterious, hurried marriage. I would also like to get to know your husband._

_It's true that carrying a child is both a wonderful and uncomfortable thing. Every mother has a different experience, and sometimes the experience differs from one bairn to the next. Be thankful that your morning sickness is passing. Some mothers are ill for the entire time. In answer to your question, in some ways things may get better for you, though you must get used to not quite feeling yourself from time to time. When you're nearing the birth, you will be uncomfortable, but it only lasts so long. At the moment when you first hold your child in your arms, all of the pain and discomfort will seem worth it. And so they are._

_Everyone is well here and they are all excited about your news. I look forward to seeing you in a few months._

_Be well, little sister. I send all my love._

_Your loving sister,_

_Molly_

#####

_Dear Molly,_

_I am glad to hear that your family is well. I am well, though I sometimes feel as though my body is not my own. I will not complain, however, because Charles tells me I am glowing, and I feel irrepressibly happy, in spite of my occasional discomfort. I'm not quite as tired as I was before, though I am still taking care not to overdo it. I'm very fortunate that I don't have to work right up until the bairn arrives. I hope it will keep her healthy._

_You may be surprised, as I was, that Lady Mary Crawley appeared at my door a few weeks ago. She apologized to me for everything unkind she had said. It was unexpected, but I could tell that she was sincere in her expressions of regret for her behavior. Charles came in after she had made her apologies to me, and she did the same for him. Lady Mary and I will never be great friends, but I have no particular wish to stay at odds with her. Charles was relieved to make peace with her. Now his "two favorite girls" are getting along, which means more to him than almost anything. She really isn't bad at heart, only young and selfish._

_I have also received visits from my former colleagues - visits not quite so fraught with tension as Lady Mary's! I miss them, and I am glad to see them and hear about what is happening at Downton. I have grown accustomed to my new routine, but I find I still like to hear what is going on at my old home._

_I hesitate to ask, but I feel I must. Do you think Andrew will enlist now we're at war? I dread the thought of it, but he's of an age to join the army._

_I look forward to seeing you again. We will have so much to talk about!_

_Your loving sister,_

_Elsie_

To be continued…

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	45. A Fine Motor Car

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Charles opened the door and Lady Grantham and Lady Sybil stepped into the small sitting room. "Hello Carson," the countess greeted him.

"Please do sit down, your ladyship, Lady Sybil," he replied, showing them to the settee. "Mrs. Carson is in the kitchen making tea."

Lady Sybil hopped up from the seat she had just taken. "May I go to the kitchen, Mama?"

Lady Grantham frowned. "Whatever for, darling?"

"Just to see how everything looks. I want to be sure Carson's kitchen is as nice as this sitting room."

The countess looked doubtful, but she acquiesced. "If you wish, but don't get in Mrs. Carson's way."

"I won't. I promise." And the girl stepped into the next room.

"Hello, Mrs. Carson."

Elsie turned from the stove in surprise. "Lady Sybil! Can I help you with something? The tea is almost ready."

"I just wanted to speak to you when no one else was around," the girl explained, lowering her voice. "Her ladyship might not think it proper, but I wanted to tell you how very happy I am that you and Carson are going to have a baby."

Elsie smiled. "Thank you. I'm very happy, too."

Lady Sybil approached the older woman, but suddenly looked shy and uncertain.

"What is it, lass? Is something wrong?"

"Not at all," the girl replied. "I just thought I should… I wanted to…" Suddenly she closed the distance between them and enveloped Elsie in a warm hug. She raised her arms to pat Lady Sybil's back, too surprised to say anything. Lady Sybil pulled away. "Mrs. Carson, you've always been so kind to me and I wanted to return the favor in whatever small way I can."

"Well, thank you, milady. That means a lot to me." The kettle started to whistle and Elsie turned back to her task. Lady Sybil offered to carry the tray, but she refused her help. The pair made their way to the sitting room where they found Charles and Lady Grantham in conversation. He had refused to be seated, but he did not stand stone-faced and at attention. She spoke in a way that put him more at ease and they talked about this and that in a fairly comfortable manner. Charles was still glad to see Elsie arrive with the tea tray, but he didn't feel nearly as awkward hosting a countess and her daughter as he had expected. He poured everyone's tea and was eventually prevailed upon to take a seat. Lady Grantham did not wish to make him uncomfortable in his own home, and his wife had not balked at sitting in her guests' presence, once the two ladies were seated comfortably themselves.

"Are you well, Mrs. Carson?" Lady Grantham inquired.

"I am, thank you."

"I'm glad to hear it." She glanced at her former butler with a small smile on her lips. "I hope Carson is treating you well."

Elsie smiled broadly now. "More than well, milady. I'm on the verge of being spoilt rotten."

The countess laughed softly. "Just as it should be, in my view," she remarked.

Charles spoke up. "Mrs. Carson takes very good care of me, as well, so it's a perfectly fair arrangement."

Lady Sybil sighed. "It's so romantic," she murmured.

"Sybil!" her mother warned in an undervoice.

The girl blushed. "I'm sorry."

"It's quite all right," Elsie assured them.

Charles had initially looked a bit perturbed at the comment, but his wife's calm response and soft smile relaxed him. It was rather sweet, after all, that Lady Sybil was so warmly enthusiastic about their marriage.

Lady Grantham smiled and changed the subject. She was very talented at making small talk and setting almost anyone at ease. In this case, this social routine set _her_ at ease also. She wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but she had been surprised by the obvious affection between Charles and Elsie. When they had left Downton to be married, Lady Grantham could see that the butler and housekeeper were good friends and cared for one another, but she had thought their marriage was only part of the reason for leaving. A pair of intelligent people might tire of a life in service and wish to go another way. In marriage they could do so, as companions for life to prevent loneliness. Here in this little cottage, however, Lady Grantham could see that her original assessment had been incorrect. Charles and Elsie were very clearly in love and it made her both happy and melancholy. She could think of few people more deserving of such joy, but she still missed her husband dreadfully. She would distract herself with conversation for a while and then go home and lie down in her room with the lights out and the curtains drawn. Grief was so terribly exhausting.

#####

_Dear Elsie,_

_No, Andrew will not enlist, for the present at least. They say it will be over by Christmas, so I doubt conscription will be instituted. Of course, when this foolishness began, there were those who said it would be over by teatime, so I don't pin my hopes entirely on having all the men home for the holiday. With all the little ones, especially with Emma being so young, Andrew feels he's of much more use at home than in France. He is probably right._

_I'm glad you're feeling so well and that your husband tells you that you glow. It doesn't matter if you really do or not. What's important is that he considers you beautiful even when you're swelled up and moving about in an awkward manner. I hope you will continue to be well. Do take care of yourself. It won't be so very long before your back will ache and you will suffer some pretty terrible indigestion and then you will not be able to get comfortable in bed at night. As I said, it is all worth it, but I hope your husband is prepared for these changes. They may be uncomfortable for him, for different reasons._

_I'm glad to hear that the high and mighty Lady Mary came down from her throne and visited your humble home to tender her heartfelt apology. It's more than I had hoped and if it brings peace to your husband's heart, I can hardly complain, as much as I despise her treatment of you both._

_I send best wishes from the family and from myself. We all look forward to your letters. Love to you always._

_Your loving sister,_

_Molly_

#####

Elsie sat in a chair in Sarah White's parlor, darning socks. She had developed a routine of visiting Sarah once a week and helping her with household tasks. The young woman had regained control of her home, but she was still very busy with her infant son and grateful for Elsie's help. At first Elsie had washed dishes or hung laundry out to dry, but her pregnancy had advanced several months since they had met and Sarah now insisted that she only be allowed to help with chores that she could complete sitting down. Elsie thought it unnecessary - she still did the dishes and the washing in her own home - but she knew Sarah was thankful for her help and had no other means of expressing it, so she accepted the kindness and did a great deal of mending. Sometimes a small cradle was brought in and she kept an eye on little Joey while his mother was busy. Elsie was glad to find that she was often able to calm the child when he was restive and in the end there were some days when she did very little sewing, instead spending the afternoon with the baby sleeping on her shoulder.

Elsie's needle and thread moved quickly as she made tiny stitches in the fabric. She glanced at Joey in his cradle and found him awake, but calm. She returned her eyes to her work, but Sarah soon entered the parlor with a tea tray. Seeing that her son was awake, she didn't feel the need to whisper.

"I think we both need a little break, Mrs. Carson," she said, pouring Elsie's tea and passing her the cup.

"I'll not argue with that. A cup of tea always refreshes me."

Sarah nodded, studying her friend with both concern and curiosity. "Are you feeling well, Mrs. Carson? No sign of illness or feeling too tired?"

"Yes, I'm quite well, but I do wish you would call me Elsie."

"I'm not sure I could call you by your Christian name. It would feel disrespectful, somehow."

Elsie laughed. "I'm not the formidable Mrs. Hughes of Downton Abbey any longer. I'm just your neighbor, Elsie."

"You may not be at Downton now, but I hear you've had some visitors from the Abbey recently," Sarah commented. She didn't want to pry into the private affairs of her friend, but she couldn't help wondering about the fine motor car that, according to one of their neighbors, had recently stopped in front of the Carsons' cottage on at least two occasions.

Elsie pursed her lips, amused that the visits of her former employers had raised speculation among her neighbors. "Yes, we've received some of our former colleagues for tea and have been honored by calls from several members of the Crawley family."

Sarah's curiosity was not assuaged. Like most of their neighbors, she had very little contact with a family of such high social standing, so she wondered what those great men and women were really like.

"The younger Lady Grantham came to see us recently with her youngest daughter and it was a very pleasant afternoon. Her ladyship is a talented conversationalist, so it was far less awkward than it might otherwise have been." Elsie paused. "She is still clearly grieving, though she has gone into half mourning, and I feel a great deal of sympathy for her - for all the family. Lord Grantham's loss was felt by everyone in the house, though to different degrees."

"That's right," Sarah replied. "I had forgotten that you were still there when his lordship was killed."

"Yes, and it was a terrible, terrible thing," Elsie told her. "Not only for her ladyship, but for their three daughters."

Sarah nodded. "And those were the only family who have called on you?"

Elsie shook her head. "Lady Mary, the eldest daughter, came to see us on her own. She and Mr. Carson were always very close."

Her young friend nodded again. "I am sorry if my questions are impertinent, Mrs. Carson. I'm not afraid to admit that I've always wondered what they were like. Not just the Crawleys, but other prominent families, too."

"Downton staff are treated well, if that's what you mean," Elsie told her. "Families like that never understand all of the work we put into keeping their households running, but I have rarely known the Crawleys to be actually unkind."

Sarah smiled. "You were happy there," she observed.

Elsie nodded. "I was. And working there led to my present happiness. I never would have met Mr. Carson if I hadn't come to Downton all those years ago."

"I think it's romantic."

Elsie was amused. "You share that sentiment with Lady Sybil. She's a dear girl. I know it can be a risk to become attached to the family you serve, but I have a special place in my heart for that one. The sweetest girl I've ever met in the course of my life, but with such enthusiasm for life."

"To know her is to love her, then," Sarah commented.

Elsie looked thoughtful. "I believe you're right."

They were silent for a little while and then Elsie drained her cup and, placing the socks she had been repairing back into the work basket, rose to her feet. "I'm afraid I must be going. Thank you for the tea."

"Of course. It's the least I can do." Sarah hurried to help Elsie into her coat and saw her off. As she watched her friend walk back to her own home, she thought how lucky she was in becoming acquainted with Elsie. She could see why the older woman had been so successful as the housekeeper at a great estate. She somehow combined strict efficiency with a hidden warmth. There was something about her that made Sarah believe she could be trusted with all manner of secrets or confessions, almost from the first time they met. Sarah had never met Charles Carson, but she hoped he knew how fortunate he was. She would hate to think of Elsie unappreciated and taken for granted. When she really thought about it, however, she couldn't imagine any woman of Elsie's intelligence being as happy as she was if she wasn't truly beloved of her husband.

#####

When Elsie returned to the cottage, a familiar motor car was parked in front of her home. She stopped and spoke to Mr. Branson, who waited in the car, reading a newspaper. He was happy to see her and wish her good health as she awaited the birth of her child. Elsie couldn't help asking who was inside and she smiled when she learned it was Lord Grantham. She was curious about his purpose in coming, but she had always liked him and would be pleased to see him. She also knew that Charles's opinion of the young man had undergone a significant transformation over the time he had been at Downton, most especially since the death of the previous earl. In addition, if the gossip from Elsie's downstairs friends were true, it would not be long before Lord Grantham and Lady Mary were engaged to be married. It was likely that they were only waiting for the mourning period for the late earl to be over.

Elsie opened the door and found her husband in the sitting room, shaking Lord Grantham's hand. The two men turned to the door when she entered. Charles came to take her coat and the younger man greeted her with a smile.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Carson. I'm afraid I can't stay, but I'm glad to see you looking well."

"Thank you, your lordship."

After hanging up her coat, Charles saw their guest to the door. Once he had closed the door behind Lord Grantham, he sat down on the settee and exhaled heavily.

"What is it, Charles?" Elsie sat down beside him and took his hand. "Is anything wrong?"

He shook his head. "Nothing is wrong. I'm just surprised."

"Will you tell me, love?"

"Yes, of course." Charles looked up at her, his expression rather bemused. "Lord Grantham has offered me a job."

_To be continued…_

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	46. An Offer

"A _job_?" Elsie asked in disbelief. "Not your old job, surely. Has Mr. Wallace gone?"

Charles shook his head. "No, not my old job. I would never go back to that now that things have changed so much for us."

"Then what sort of job?" she wanted to know.

"He's given me two options, actually. It will take a little explaining."

Elsie settled in her seat and nestled into her husband's side. "I have the afternoon free," she told him. "Take all the time you need."

Charles wrapped his arm around her shoulders and placed his free hand on her belly, a habit he'd developed over the last few weeks. "It starts with Mr. Wallace. He is apparently a very good butler, with one exception. You may find this amusing, but what the Crawleys did not discover until he had been employed several weeks was that he is a teetotaler."

"What?" Elsie couldn't help laughing. "Oh, dear! A teetotaler in charge of your cellar!"

"It's not _my_ cellar, my dear."

"You know what I mean. But how did he manage making the proper wine choices?"

"At first he managed with what general knowledge he had of food and wine pairings. His previous employer was no connoisseur," Charles explained. "So when it came to the more nuanced differences between one white and another, he was entirely hopeless."

"What a thing to have happen! But I suppose one might not think to ask a candidate for that position whether he drank alcohol or not."

"Precisely. But when he was found out, Lord and Lady Grantham did not feel it was right to turn Mr. Wallace out. He had not actually attempted to deceive them, and aside of this one handicap, he had performed his duties admirably in the short time he had been at Downton. His lordship tried to take on the buying and selecting of wines himself, but he found that he was only a little more capable than his butler."

Elsie nodded. "So he's asked you for help."

"He has. He feels it's important to learn about wines himself, because he would like to continue the legacy of his predecessor. Downton always kept a fine cellar. His lordship has asked me to consider meeting with him once or twice a month at the Abbey to tutor him on the fine points of wine."

"He knows you have a talent for that," Elsie observed, proud of her husband.

"So it seems."

"What did you tell him?" she wanted to know.

"Nothing, really. He told me he didn't need an answer right away. And I wanted to see what you thought, anyway." Charles looked at her face, trying to gauge her mood. "There would be a moderate stipend included in the agreement."

"It seems a very reasonable idea. Just once or twice a month. It will be a long day for you, going to Downton and back before going to work."

He nodded. "Yes, but I think I am up to the challenge. And you can come with me if you'd care to visit your friends at the house and in the village. That is, if you don't object to my taking such a job."

"No, I don't object," Elsie assured him. "I think it could be a very good thing for you to spend a little time at Downton, and it wouldn't disrupt our lives here very much."

Charles smiled. "Thank you, my dear."

"But don't think I've forgotten you said his lordship offered two options."

"I didn't think you would."

"So?"

"The other option would mean a complete change in our lives. You may not like the idea, but I hope you will at least think about it."

"Because you _do_ like it?" Elsie asked.

"I'm not sure about it, either," he told her. "But it does have a certain attraction."

"Very well, I'll consider it," she agreed. "But we can't go any further until you tell me what this other job is."

Charles nodded. "His lordship asked me to take over all management of the cellar at Downton, in addition to educating him on the finer points of wine."

Elsie's eyes widened. "That would mean-"

"Moving back to Downton, yes. He told me he would house us in a cottage on the estate - one that's been recently improved."

"That's quite an offer!"

"Yes. I think I would like to be back at Downton. And I would be doing work that I enjoy. I only worry that it won't keep me busy enough."

She nodded. "That's very possible."

"And I wouldn't want to give up my position here in Ripon if managing the Abbey's cellar isn't enough for me."

"You've accomplished quite a lot in the short time we've lived here."

Charles kissed her cheek. "And what about you? You've created a niche for yourself as well. I wouldn't want to make you unhappy by taking you away from it."

"It's definitely something to think about. So his lordship said he would wait for your answer?"

He shook his head. "Yes. He seemed to be aware that it would not be an easy decision, so I think he is willing to wait."

"That's very kind of him," Elsie observed.

"Indeed," he agreed. "But I think I will accept the first offer tomorrow."

"Of course. We can send a note in the morning."

Charles kissed her cheek again. "Thank you so much, Elsie."

"For what?"

"For understanding how important this is to me."

Elsie smiled, eyes twinkling. "I've known you for a long time, love."

He laughed. "That you have."

"Would you care for some tea, Charles?" she offered. "I can see you didn't make any for his lordship."

"He declined my offer," Charles explained. "I would be glad to have some tea, though you can rest here while I prepare it for us."

Elsie immediately stood up from her seat. "That won't be necessary, Charles. I'm perfectly capable of making tea."

Charles stood and gently took her arm. "Of course you're capable, my dear. But wouldn't you rather sit down while I take care of it?"

"I've just spent several hours sitting on the settee in Sarah White's parlor, having tea made for me, and I would like to move around a bit!" she replied, caught between amusement and exasperation.

"Well, if you're sure…"

Elsie rolled her eyes. "If it will make you feel any better, you are welcome to accompany me to the kitchen and stand ready to catch me, in case I should swoon." She didn't wait for any further discussion, but turned and made her way briskly to the kitchen. She made tea without incident and they drank it together in their sitting room.

#####

The next morning Charles was awakened by his growling stomach. He yawned and stretched, expecting Elsie to appear at any moment and tell him his breakfast was ready. Thus he was surprised when he finally opened his eyes and saw that she was still beside him in bed, sleeping soundly. He sat up and looked down at her. Ever since Elsie had found out she was pregnant, Charles had found himself more than usually preoccupied with her health, so his immediate thought at her sleeping late was that she might be ill. However, watching her sleep, he saw no indication that she was. She lay on her side, facing him. Her breathing was even and her cheeks slightly rosy. She was even smiling slightly in her sleep. Charles let his eyes wander over the outline of her form under her nightgown and the blankets. His eyes and his hand were drawn to her belly. He rested his palm there and was surprised to feel, for the first time, the fluttering movement of his child. He gasped softly and pressed a little more firmly against her stomach; he was rewarded with another flutter. By now Elsie had awakened and was watching him, but he was entirely transfixed and did not notice. A smile appeared on his lips and after a few moments he bent over and placed a kiss on his wife's belly.

"She's ready for breakfast," Elsie observed softly.

Charles looked up at her. "Does she move around like that very often?" He asked in some wonder.

"Fairly often. Some days she's more active than others. I'm surprised you've never felt her moving before."

"It's amazing," he murmured. "Does it hurt you?"

She shook her head. "Not very often. From time to time she kicks pretty hard and I get a twinge, but otherwise it's fine."

"She wants breakfast, you say?"

"The bairn and her mother _both_ want breakfast, my dear." Elsie moved slowly into a sitting position.

"I'll make breakfast, love," Charles offered.

"No, Charles. I can see I've overslept, but I don't plan to lie abed all day." She swung her legs over the side of the bed and got up.

"Still, you can rest in the sitting room while I cook."

Elsie rolled her eyes in mild irritation. "Charles, I appreciate your concern, but if you treat me like a china doll, I'll go mad. I've already been banned from the hospital. I won't be driven out of my own kitchen."

Charles sighed. "You feel well, then?"

"I feel quite well. But don't fear. Molly tells me that it won't be long before I will not want to move any more than is absolutely necessary. When that time comes you can cook and clean all you like." She relented a little when she saw his concerned expression. "You can help, if you like, Charles. Will that make you feel better?"

He smiled. "Yes, I think it will. Thank you, my dear."

Charles and Elsie went about the business of dressing for the day. In spite of her now somewhat ungainly figure, she was ready well before him and made her way briskly to the kitchen.

#####

At the kitchen table, Charles buttered Elsie's toast and placed it on her plate. She passed him his cup of tea. They ate in silence for a minute or two.

"What is it, Charles?"

"Nothing."

"It's not nothing. You're picking at your breakfast and I know it's not because you aren't hungry."

"I was just wondering…" He stopped. "No, I don't want to bother you with it now."

She smirked. "You were wondering if I've thought any more about his lordship's offer."

"Well, yes. But of course you won't have had much time to think about it yet. Don't worry about it now, love."

"As a matter of fact, I _have_ thought about it."

"And?" Charles was both eager and nervous to hear her answer.

Elsie looked thoughtful. "Well, my first thought was that I absolutely did not want to go back to Downton." His face fell. "But after I'd had time to go over the whole scenario in my mind, I don't feel so strongly against it."

"What are your thoughts, Elsie? I want to know what you really think. If you truly don't want to go, then we won't."

"I'm not quite decided yet, but I can see that there are definite benefits to the plan. I'm sure you would work mostly during the day, which means you would be able to eat dinner at home with me. I miss sitting with you in the evening."

Charles smiled sadly. "I never knew."

She waved her hand. "Don't worry yourself over it, my dear. We still have breakfast and lunch and Sunday evenings."

"I miss you in the evening, too." He took her hand across the table.

Elsie moved on. "As far as my activities in Ripon go, there's little I can do here that I wouldn't be able to do in Downton. It's got a hospital, a church, and a library just the same as Ripon. I'd miss my new friends, but I miss my old friends in Downton. I may not be as attached to the Crawleys as you are, but Downton was my home for a long time."

"But you are still not convinced?" he asked. "I don't mean to rush you, my dear. I just want to understand."

"Of course you do." She squeezed his hand. "If I'm honest, my main objection to returning to Downton is a selfish one: I've gotten used to having you all to myself. If we go back, I'll have to share you again."

Charles was surprised. "Well, maybe a little. But it won't be like before. You won't be in competition with my work."

"That's true," Elsie agreed.

"And _I_ have gotten used to spending more time alone with _you._ You needn't worry that I'll go back to Downton and feel tempted to work too much. I won't."

She smiled. "I know you won't, darling. We have a different way of living now. We're a family, and I know that's more important to you than anything else."

Charles squeezed her hand and released it so he could return to his breakfast. "It makes me very happy to hear you say that."

_To be continued…_

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	47. Home

**Thank you all for your support and lovely reviews.**

Elsie got out of bed as silently as possible and started getting ready for her day. She was finding it more and more difficult to evade her husband's attempts to take care of her by trying to take all her work upon himself. If she could escape the bedroom without detection, she would be able to cook breakfast in peace before Charles awoke. Once he was awake every morning, she found herself fighting him at every turn, and it was becoming tiresome. Elsie was a sensible woman and she knew she had to take things a little easier during this time, but he barely let her lift a finger some days. She was so deep in thought that her hairbrush slipped from her hand and fell to the floor with a clatter, waking Charles from a heavy slumber.

He sat up. "Are you all right, Elsie?" he mumbled, still groggy.

"I'm fine, dear," she answered, bending down to retrieve the brush. "I only dropped my hairbrush. Go back to sleep."

Charles stretched and yawned. "No, I think I'll get up now. I can set the table for breakfast."

Elsie studied him carefully. She was surprised he had not suggested that she lie down while he cooked breakfast. Was something wrong? He did look a little preoccupied. She got back into bed and sat facing him. "Are you all right, Charles?"

"Of course," he replied. "Why shouldn't I be?"

"I was only surprised that you didn't begin your day by trying to keep me from making breakfast."

He looked sheepish. "I've been driving you mad, love, haven't I?

Elsie sighed. "You have."

"I'm sorry," he told her plainly. "I'll try to do better."

"What's brought this on?" she asked, a bit flummoxed. "Are _you_ quite well?"

Charles looked at her for a few seconds, then lay back down on his side. He patted her pillow, indicating that she should do the same. She paused and then followed his suggestion, lying on her side facing him. He laid his hand on her stomach and Elsie sighed contentedly. She waited patiently to see what he had to say. "At the restaurant last night I found out that I'll be able to take a little time off every month."

Elsie smiled. "That's wonderful, Charles."

"It is," he agreed. "I'm to train the head waiter so he can fill in when I'm away."

She laughed. "You've got a footman again, Charles!"

He chuckled. "Not exactly. He's a fair sight older than Thomas or William, and much better behaved. It will be an easy job."

"Even better." She patted his cheek. "But that's not what's got you so pensive, is it?"

"It is. Because of his lordship's offer. I liked the idea of going back to Downton, but I hadn't really thought I would miss my work at the restaurant."

Elsie nodded. "I see. And now you think you will?"

"I _know_ I will. Elsie, I don't think I want to go back." He seemed almost surprised at himself.

"Then we'll stay," she replied simply.

"Yes." He smiled. "We'll stay. But are you sure, Elsie? Yesterday it seemed like you might be coming 'round to the idea of going back."

"I was still thinking about it, but I would prefer to stay here, even more now I know it's what you want." She paused and ran a finger along his jaw. "Do you feel better now?"

"I do," Charles replied, skimming her side with his hand, enjoying feel of her curves from her shoulder to her hip. "I didn't know I was worried, but I'm glad to have the decision behind me."

"You'll always have a connection to Downton, but we can keep living on our own terms."

"Exactly." He moved closer to kiss her. Elsie sighed, returning his kiss and running her hands over his chest. They shifted toward one another, but were hindered somewhat by the size of her belly. Elsie was not quite uncomfortable, but her size had begun to affect how she moved and went about her daily life. She kissed Charles soundly before rolling to face away from him and then scooting backwards until her back was pressed up against his chest. He kissed a path down her neck, but was soon frustrated by the high collar of her nightgown. Without a thought, Elsie sat up and quickly pulled the offending garment over her head and let it fall to the floor before returning to her previous position.

Charles kissed her neck and breathed in her ear. "You're so beautiful, Elsie."

She laughed a little. "I'm glad you still think so."

"What do you mean?" he murmured, kissing her shoulder.

"Well, I'm not exactly normal shape, Charles," she explained.

"No, but it doesn't make you any less beautiful." He caressed her rounded abdomen with his hand. "Sometimes I think it makes you even _more_ beautiful than-" He suddenly stopped. "I mean, that's not to say that you aren't _always_ beautiful, but-"

"Charles." Elsie covered his hand with hers. "Relax. You won't offend me by telling me how much you like my oddly shaped body. The only thing that you should _not_ do is stop talking like that."

He was quick to comply. "You are always beautiful," he began, speaking softly into her ear again. "But there is something magical about your walking around or sitting down or sleeping beside me when a tiny human being is growing inside your body. I've seen a fair few pregnant women in my lifetime, but never until now did I stop and think about how amazing it truly is. You are positively glowing. I can't resist you."

"You don't have to," Elsie whispered. "I told you what the doctor said."

"You're feeling well today, then?"

"Very well, thanks to you," she replied, her breathing shallow. "It's just a matter of-"

"Finding a way," he finished for her.

"Yes. Let's find a way, Charlie."

Elsie was disappointed when he pulled away from her, but she knew it would not be for long. In the end, she was amazed at how quickly Charles managed to remove his clothing and return to press himself against her back.

"I love you, my darling," he whispered into her neck, his hot breath and light stubble against her skin causing her to shiver and moan. "I noticed you weren't wearing knickers under your nightgown."

She felt her face flush and wondered if any skin within her husband's view also showed her embarrassment. "Sometimes I'm more comfortable sleeping without them," she explained quietly.

"Mmmmm…" Charles slid his palm over Elsie's hip and let his fingers explore the skin of her thigh. When his hand crept between her legs to touch her intimately, she gasped at the sensation. He teased her higher and higher with his fingers, while kissing her neck and shoulder. It was not long before Elsie felt for a moment like she was weightless, before relaxing completely, murmuring her husband's name.

"Do you feel all right, my love?" he whispered.

"Better than all right," she breathed. "That was marvelous."

"Good."

"Now…"

"Now, we try to find a way." Charles lifted her leg a little and she could feel him pressing against her, hard between her legs.

Elsie sighed. "You've thought about this before."

He was breathing heavily now. "Yes, I'll admit I have."

She gasped when he entered her. "Oh, Charles."

Charles stilled, waiting for some sign that he should continue. There was no mistaking the desire in her voice, but he questioned her anyway. "Tell me if you're uncomfortable."

"No, not at all. It's… different."

"Different? But good?" he wondered.

"Charles, stop talking and start moving," she commanded him. He was happy to do as she asked. It was a little awkward at first, making love this way, but they managed to establish a rhythm and things went more smoothly from there. Charles caressed her whole body with his free hand and Elsie was overwhelmed by feeling. After a while, she could hear from his breath and voice that he was nearing completion. He reached for her most sensitive place once again and within moments she had fallen over the edge again. "I love you, my Charlie."

"Oh, Elsie," he moaned into her shoulder as his pace increased. Elsie relaxed and savored the feel and sound of him as he pushed into her, faster and faster, and when at last he shuddered and was still, she shivered from the pleasure of it all. After a minute or so Charles encouraged her to roll over. Once she was facing him again, she kissed her husband soundly.

"I would like to stay here with you, but I'm afraid the wee one is hungry," Elsie told him.

He smiled. "Just the wee one?"

"I should think the big one is hungry, too," she smirked, poking him gently in the chest.

"Me? Well, now that you mention it, I suppose I am."

Elsie groaned softly as she got into a sitting position with her legs hanging off the side of the bed. "I don't think it will be long before I'll be decidedly less lively in the morning."

"You've already slowed down a bit," Charles observed.

"I've still been making your breakfast every morning, haven't I?" she huffed.

"I said 'a _bit_,' darling," he amended. "Only enough that someone who knows you well would notice. You're still fairly active."

Elsie began to dress herself. "Well, as I said, it won't be long before _you_ may be making breakfast."

"Are you still wearing that corset, Elsie?"

"You know I am," she replied. "But not very tightly laced. And I plan to get rid of it soon. I was going to ask you to come with me to York someday soon so I can buy a brassiere."

"What's that?" Charles wanted to know.

"If I understand correctly, it's sort of like the top part of a corset. It will keep me looking respectable, but won't restrict our little one's movement. Not to forget that it will be a lot more comfortable for _me_."

"Can you go today?" he suggested. "I haven't got anything on."

"I was planning to see Sarah White, but that can easily be postponed."

"Postpone it, then. Let's go to York."

Elsie smiled and nodded her agreement. "To York, then. But breakfast first."

"Of course. Lead the way, my dear."

Elsie made her way to the kitchen, closely followed by her husband. They enjoyed a large breakfast and then were off to York.

_To be continued…_

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	48. More than One Kind of Mother

Joey had been fussy all morning and after Elsie had finally lulled him to sleep and laid him back in his cradle, she was sleepy herself and dozed off. She wasn't sure how long she had been sleeping when Sarah bustled into the room with a tea tray, but she was thankful for the previous week's trip to York. She certainly would have been much more uncomfortable after a nap sitting up had she been wearing her corset. Elsie was wondering now if she'd ever be able to go back to wearing it, but she decided that it was a concern best left for another day. She blushed a little at the memory of the morning after their trip to York. Charles had been keen to take off the brassiere almost as soon as she had put it on and he had also managed to surprise her with another new way of making love that worked with her ever-increasing size. Whether or not she would keep wearing the brassiere after the child was born, Elsie had every intention of continuing with some of these 'new ways.' She had a feeling Charles would not object. Returning to the present moment, she took the cup that Sarah handed her and sipped slowly.

"How do you feel, Mrs. Carson?" Sarah asked quietly, hoping little Joey would not awaken.

Elsie sighed. "I'm well," she answered. "But I feel enormous."

"That sounds about right."

"I am a little worried," the older woman admitted.

"Are you?" Sarah furrowed her brow. "Has something happened?"

"No, but I sometimes fear I'm rather old to be a mother, especially for the first time. I dismissed the possibility of having my own children quite some time ago, but now it's happening and I don't know how I'll go about being a mother."

Sarah smiled. "I'm sure you've nothing to worry about, Mrs. Carson. You're already the favorite aunt to all of my children and you're so natural with Joey."

"I suppose so."

"I think you've been a mother for quite a while, actually. From the way you speak of your time at Downton, I think you were a mother to many of the young men and women there, though quite a strict one, I expect, given your profession and theirs."

Elsie smiled. "I hadn't thought of it quite like that."

"You should. There are many ways to be a mother." Sarah put some biscuits on a small plate. "Now eat these, Mrs. Carson."

"You spoil me, my dear."

"It's the least I can do."

Elsie did not try to argue. She simply took the plate of biscuits and ate them as she drank her tea.

#####

As she walked home, Elsie thought she might soon reduce the frequency of her visits to the village and to her neighbors. She was starting to become uncomfortable, and walking was more of a chore now, though she had always enjoyed it before. When she reached home, she went right to the settee and sat down with a heavy sigh. The house was quiet; she was alone. Elsie was glad that Charles had made some friends in the village. He sometimes met for lunch with a group of men who shared some of his interests and they discussed all manner of things - things they had read, their families, the price of household items, the war. She closed her eyes and her body relaxed, but after a few seconds, she realized that she was not alone after all. She heard a thump coming from the kitchen, followed by her husband's voice.

"Come back here, you little…"

Elsie did not have long to wonder what was happening, because tiny orange ball of fur suddenly darted out of the kitchen and jumped up on the settee beside her, hiding up against her side, and Charles appeared soon after, looking aggravated.

"What's this, Charles?" she asked him.

"It was supposed to be a surprise," he grumbled. "I got you a kitten."

"I can assure you, it is quite a surprise!" She smiled. "A very pleasant surprise. I thought you were against our getting a cat."

"I was, but as I thought about it more, it didn't seem like such a bad thing," he explained. "I'm beginning to doubt the wisdom of that idea, though."

"Why, what's he done?"

"He's not done anything, except repeatedly escape my grasp like a bit of ginger-colored quicksilver!"

Elsie smiled. The kitten was still curled up against her side and she reached down and lifted it from its hiding place. "Hello, you," she greeted the animal. "What's your name?"

"He doesn't have a name yet. I thought I'd allow you that honor."

"Quite an honor!" Elsie lifted the cat up in front of her face, turning it this way and that, surprised that it tolerated her inspection so calmly. "He looks like an Oliver."

"Does he?"

"Did you know that Oliver Cromwell was ginger-haired?"

"No, I didn't." Charles scratched the kitten's head. "Hello, Oliver."

"Charles, do sit down."

He did as she asked and sat beside her. The kitten studied Charles carefully from his perch on Elsie's shoulder. After a few seconds, it jumped to _his_ shoulder, crawled into his lap, and fell asleep. Charles was bemused.

Elsie couldn't help laughing. "He knows you're a sweetheart under all that bluster."

He blushed. "If you say so."

"I do." She kissed his cheek.

"Elsie, I've been meaning to talk to you about something.

"Yes?"

"Now that we're going to have a child, this cottage will be too small for us. There's no place for a nursery. Now that I've had my salary increased and and a stipend from his lordship, we can afford to move to a larger cottage. Nothing extravagant, mind, but something with a second bedroom."

"I had been thinking about that," Elsie said. "I knew we would manage somehow, even if we had to stay here. But are you sure we can afford it?"

He nodded. "I've looked into several cottages in this neighborhood and the rents are not a great deal higher than what we pay here."

"That's good."

"I'm only worried about moving house while you're in your present condition."

"I agree that it won't be ideal, but it won't be any better if we wait until after the child is born. If we do it now, I will still be able to help pack up the small items. And we can ask our neighbors for help."

Charles relaxed. "You're right, of course. When you put it like that it doesn't sound so terrible." He stroked her cheek with his fingers. "Would you like to visit some cottages with me tomorrow, Elsie?"

She nodded. "I certainly would. Can you arrange it so soon?"

"I'll certainly do my best. I have a few connections that should help us find what we need fairly quickly."

"Perfect! I'll go to bed early tonight, so I'm ready for a busy day."

"You don't have to go if it will make you too tired, Elsie."

"Charles, don't make me stay at home."

"I only want you to be comfortable and healthy."

Elsie tried to be patient. She knew her husband's motives were pure and she didn't want to punish him for trying to take care of her. "What if I promise to have you take me home if I get too tired? Will that make you feel better?"

"If you promise," he replied.

She took her husband's hand between both of hers and kissed the back of it. "I give you my solemn pledge," she told him.

He leaned in and kissed her smiling lips. "I love you, my darling."

_To be continued…_

**A/N: I had decided I wanted an orange cat for Elsie and Charles, so I went looking for names of famous redheads. I found a list on Huffington Post that included Oliver Cromwell, which I thought was the perfect name. :-)**

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	49. A New Home

**Hi, all! Sorry for the long delay in posting. I won't go into a rambling explanation, but I will tell you that there will only be a few more chapters of this story and I hope to finish posting within the next few weeks. Happy New Year!**

Charles was there to answer the door when the expected knock came, fairly early in the morning. He greeted the young woman standing outside.

"Do come in," he invited her. "You must be Mrs. White."

She smiled and gave a brief nod as she came inside. Charles took her coat. "I'm very pleased to finally meet you, Mr. Carson."

"And I, you," he replied. "Mrs. Carson is sleeping. Normally she would have risen and made breakfast by this time, but I thought it would be nice to let her sleep."

"I quite agree. Let me make breakfast. Have you eaten yourself, Mr. Carson, or shall I cook for the both of you?"

Charles was taken a little by surprise. "Oh, I couldn't ask you to do that."

"You didn't ask. I'm volunteering for the job." She tried to smile reassuringly. "Mrs. Carson did ask me here to help you move house, I believe?"

"Yes, that's true."

"And I doubt you were planning to ask your wife or me to carry any heavy crates today."

"Certainly not! I've asked a few men to join me. Mrs. Carson and I don't have many possessions, so it shouldn't take long."

"Then my help will consist primarily of keeping her from overexerting herself without making her feel she's being treated like she's too fragile to do anything."

Charles looked sheepish. "I don't suppose she's mentioned that I have a tendency to-"

"To be overprotective of her?" Sarah supplied. "Yes, she has, once or twice. But she knows it's only because you love her, so she tries to be patient."

"Well, I..." Charles was a little embarrassed to be discussing his private feelings with a woman he had just met and wasn't sure what to say.

Sarah took pity on him. "But never mind all that. You and I have the same goals here, Mr. Carson. I'll be in the kitchen. Do let me know if she tries to push herself too far and I'll take care of it." And she bustled away from him. Recognizing a dismissal when he received one, Charles went to the bedroom for a peek at Elsie and was glad to find her still sleeping peacefully. Once the smell of breakfast wafted in from the kitchen, however, she stirred. Charles sat down on the bed and watched her stretch and yawn.

"You've made breakfast?" she murmured.

"No, I haven't," he replied. "Your friend Mrs. White is here."

Elsie propped herself up on her elbows. "It must be very late!" she exclaimed. "Why didn't you wake me?"

Charles kissed her hair. "You looked so comfortable that I couldn't bear to disturb you."

"Well, I'll get up now. I'm hungry and that food smells delicious." Elsie got out of bed and dressed herself. She was having rather an awkward time of buckling her shoes with her stomach in the way. She would have managed, but Charles sat her down on the bed and buckled them for her. "You spoil me terribly, Charles."

"I do nothing of the sort," he replied firmly. "All I do is keep my wedding vows. I wouldn't call this 'sickness,' precisely, but you need my help and I am bound to give it to you."

"Well, in any case, it's time for breakfast," Elsie pointed out. "I won't have my friend thinking I just lie in bed all day."

Charles scoffed lightly. "I seriously doubt she thinks that. But you're right about breakfast. We'd better fortify ourselves for the day ahead."

#####

Sarah was as good as her word. It would have been impossible to keep Elsie from doing _anything_, but she made sure her friend was mostly occupied with tasks that kept her off her feet, and when that was not possible, she managed to put her off of anything very taxing. Wrapping knickknacks in tissue paper was acceptable work. If Elsie noticed that Sarah was purposefully dawdling and asking a lot of odd questions as they packed these items, she never mentioned it.

"Mr. Carson says he's almost finished taking the trunks to the new cottage," Sarah said as she and Elsie prepared tea in the kitchen. "Hopefully he'll be back in time for tea."

"I think he will. He knows I bought some chocolate biscuits for today's tea."

Sarah laughed. "I like your husband, Mrs. Carson. He might have been a brute, as large as he is, but nothing could be further from the truth."

"No, he's the very opposite of a brute. But don't get any ideas, my dear. He's mine," Elsie teased.

Sarah scoffed. "As if he'd ever even _look _at another woman! No, he's quite devoted to you."

"It's true. I'm very lucky."

"How are you lucky, Elsie?" Charles asked, strolling into the room.

"I'm lucky that I've got you for a husband, darling."

He flushed, mildly embarrassed by Elsie's speaking to him in such a way when company was present, but all the same he was pleased. Sarah smiled, but she didn't seem uncomfortable or shocked at her friend's speech. Such a conversation would have been unthinkable at Downton Abbey, but it was different here. They lived like an ordinary working class couple, and Charles could see the charm of this life that was absent from life in a grand house. They each had their advantages and disadvantages, but at this moment he didn't wish to be anywhere other than right where he was - standing in their kitchen, smiling at Elsie.

Sarah finished boiling the kettle while the Carsons were in wordless conversation and she prepared three cups of tea in silence. Once all was ready, she began to think she could leave the house, unnoticed, but at last her two companions remembered her presence and they drank their tea and enjoyed their chocolate biscuits.

#####

That night Charles and Elsie were curled up in bed together, tired but satisfied with all they had accomplished.

"I think I'll have some sore muscles in the morning," Charles remarked.

"Don't worry, darling," Elsie replied. "We can both stay in bed tomorrow as late as we like."

"After church, you mean."

"If you wish. But if you are very sore when you wake up I like to think God will forgive you for staying at home."

"And you for taking care of me, I suppose?" he guessed.

"I hope so."

"So. How do you like your new home?"

"I like _our_ new home very much," Elsie returned. "It's charming."

"Especially with you in it."

Elsie laughed. "Flirt."

"And what if I am? As long as I restrict my flirting to my wife."

"True." She kissed his cheek and tucked herself closer to his side.

Charles turned on his side to face her. He reached under the sheets and placed his hand on her belly. "Are you excited?" he whispered.

"Excited, and a whole host of other emotions," she answered. "I wonder what it will be like and I worry that I won't be a good mother."

Charles scoffed. "You're _already_ a good mother - to children born to other people. It's just now that you're going to be both birthing and raising a child."

"But will watching out for maids and footmen really prepare me for all of this?" she wanted to know.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "Maybe, maybe not."

Elsie sighed, but soon brightened up a bit, her usual practicality returning. "Well, there's nothing to be done about it now, is there? I suppose we'll just have to stumble through it all together."

Charles smiled. "Quite right. Now go to sleep."

"Only if you do."

"I will have no difficulty acceding to that request."

Elsie yawned as they both settled in for the night.

_To be continued…_

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	50. A Surprise

**Thank you for your patience!**

Elsie awoke to a grey day. It was the middle of January, but not quite cold enough for snow, and the damp chill in the air and the sound of a drizzle outside, not to mention the kitten sleeping at her feet, made the bed seem particularly comfortable. She lay on her side, facing away from Charles, so she had to twist her neck to see if he were still asleep. Fortunately he was, and Elsie tried to get up as quickly and quietly as possible. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up. Her movement woke Charles.

"Good morning, Elsie."

"Good morning, Charles," she murmured.

"Let me make breakfast, my darling." Elsie sat still and didn't speak. "Are you all right, Elsie?"

"Yes. Just thinking."

"What about?"

Elsie was silent for a few moments, but at last she sighed and allowed herself to slide back under the covers, this time on her side so she faced Charles. "You can make breakfast, love," she answered. "I'm giving up that fight."

He smiled a little and reached out to caress her face. "You just rest, then, and I'll take care of everything."

"All right, I will." Charles started to get out of bed, but Elsie held him back. "But kiss me first?"

"Of course," he agreed with a smile. He kissed her soundly on the lips, then gently on the cheek. "Now just relax and I'll go make us breakfast." Charles quickly dressed and went to the kitchen.

Elsie closed her eyes and burrowed more deeply under the warm blankets. She would get up and get dressed in a few minutes, but she savored a few moments in the warmth of her bed. Under normal circumstances, she might have fallen back asleep, but the discomfort that had led her to allow her husband to cook breakfast also prevented extra time in bed from being particularly restful. Elsie sat up slowly again, this time rising from the bed and making her way to the wardrobe. She pulled out everything she would need, so she could dress quickly and avoid the chill. Oliver followed her around the room, rubbing against her ankles whenever she stood still. She didn't bother with shoes yet. She had swallowed her pride, just after Christmas, and let Charles buckle her shoes every day. Elsie didn't like to be idle or to neglect what she saw as her own responsibilities, but her aching back and swollen feet swept away these concerns. She was sure a time would come when she could repay her husband in kind for every little thing he did to make her life easier, but for the next month or so she decided to simply be thankful that she was so well and tenderly cared for. He probably felt it was his right - his responsibility, even - as her husband. Elsie dressed as quickly as she could and went to the kitchen, shoes in hand, followed closely by the kitten. She would have been surprised a month ago at Oliver's not immediately following Charles to the kitchen, but the small cat seemed to have recently taken on the role of guardian to Elsie. He went where she went and he sniffed at every visitor to the house, as though making sure their friends were all acceptable company for her. This behavior by such a tiny animal was both amusing and endearing and Elsie complimented her husband on his choice of Oliver to be their companion.

Charles smiled when he saw her and laughed softly when he noticed that she was wearing a pair of his bulky wool socks over her stockings.

"Are you laughing at my socks, Charles?" she challenged him.

"I'm laughing very affectionately," he told her, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "The socks look adorable. I may just have to hide your shoes so you can walk around in those all day."

Elsie hid her shoes behind her back, smiling back at him. "I'd like to see you try," she teased.

"If I wasn't in the middle of cooking your breakfast, I would have no trouble nicking them. Lucky for you, I'm too busy to try."

A knock sounded on the front door. "Who could that be?" Elsie wondered.

"You'll have to answer it, love," Charles told her. "If I leave the stove now, breakfast will be ruined."

Elsie shrugged and moved toward the door, dropping her shoes near the settee. There wasn't time to put them on and buckle them. Whoever was at the door would see her in her husband's socks, but she didn't much care. "Sarah!" she exclaimed when she had swung open the door. "Come in, dear. What are you doing here? Is something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong and I won't stay," Sarah replied.

"Then…?" Elsie waited for an explanation.

"Someone came to my house looking for you." Sarah turned to one side and a diminutive woman stepped into sight from behind the high shrubbery just beside the door.

"Molly!" Elsie exclaimed, embracing her sister. "What are you doing here? We didn't expect you until tomorrow."

"Is that all you have to say to your sister, then?" Molly questioned. "If you prefer it, I can put up at an inn until tomorrow."

Elsie laughed and squeezed her more tightly. "Don't be daft. You surprised me is all."

By this time, Charles had heard the commotion and peeked out from the kitchen. Though curious about her early arrival, he knew exactly who stood on his doorstep, embracing his wife. Sarah stepped quietly around the pair to set Molly's bag just inside the door. When she saw Charles, she approached and spoke to him.

"She was lost and by pure luck knocked on my door to ask directions," Sarah explained.

Charles nodded, then laughed softly. "It looks like Oliver approves of Mrs. Smith." The cat was in the doorway with the two women, running around excitedly and stopping every few seconds to rub against the legs of one or the other of them.

Sarah smiled. "I'm not surprised. But I suggest you call her Molly. I'm a complete stranger to her and she scolded me thoroughly for calling her Mrs. Smith."

Charles sniffed the air. "Oh dear, I must get back to my cooking. Thank you, Mrs. White." And he retreated to the kitchen. Sarah nodded and slipped out the front door.

"My, my, Elsie, you really are glowing!" Molly was saying. "That husband of yours wasn't exaggerating."

"It's probably just from the cold air," Elsie replied, realizing that they were still standing on the doorstep. "Let's go in now and you can get warm. I see Sarah has brought your things in already."

Molly followed her younger sister inside and closed the door behind her. "Speaking of your man, where is he?"

"He's making breakfast."

"I'm impressed already!"

Elsie took her sister by the hand and led her to the kitchen.

"Charles! We have a visitor!"

He turned to meet his sister-in-law for the first time. The resemblance between the two women was striking. Molly was slightly shorter and had a little more grey hair, but they had the same eyes and the same smile. "Welcome, Mrs. Smith," he greeted her. "I'll shake your hand properly in a moment, once I've finished here."

"Of course," Molly replied. "But I'll have none of this 'Mrs. Smith' business. Do call me Molly."

"Very well," Charles agreed with a smile, turning back to the stove. He had known, of course, that she would insist on being called by her Christian name, but his own sense of propriety would not allow him to do so until she had told him herself how she preferred to be addressed. The two women sat down at the kitchen table.

"Who's your little friend?" Molly asked, indicating the kitten that was sitting by Elsie's feet.

"His name's Oliver. He's my little protector. And it appears you've passed inspection."

"I'm glad! I'm sure I wouldn't want to provoke the wrath of such a fearful creature." The sisters laughed together and Charles was struck again by how similar they were.

"Breakfast is served, ladies," he announced, when he was finished cooking.

"I've already eaten, so just a cup of tea for me," Molly commented.

Elsie's brow furrowed. "How do you come to be here so early?" she wanted to know. "Is there really a train so early in the morning from Lytham St Annes?"

"No, but there's a very late train. I arrived last night and stayed the night in Ripon before I happened upon your friend Sarah White."

"But why did you not come here?" Charles asked.

"As I said, it was very late, and I was afraid I would wake Elsie."

"That's all very well, but you're not due until tomorrow," Elsie pointed out.

"Oh that?" Molly waved her hand. "I wanted to surprise you."

Elsie was fairly satisfied with this explanation. The hows and whys didn't matter much at this point, and she was thrilled to see her sister at last, and to introduce her to her husband.

After breakfast, the three of them spent several cheerful hours just chatting easily in the sitting room. Elsie was glad to see her husband and sister getting on so well and the other two were simply pleased to see Elsie happy.

#####

Elsie fussed with the buttons of Charles's coat as he prepared to leave for work. "We'll see you in the morning, dear."

He kissed the top of her head. "Molly, you can take my spot in bed and I'll sleep on the cot out here."

Molly scoffed. "No, Charles, I'll take the cot."

"But you're our guest," he argued. "It's only right that I should give you the better place."

"Then you will _let me sleep on that cot._ The honor of sleeping with an uncomfortable, heavily pregnant woman belongs always to the man who's responsible for getting her in such a condition."

Charles blushed and Elsie giggled. "Very well," he agreed. "I will see you both in the morning." He kissed Elsie once more and departed.

As soon as the door was shut behind him, Molly headed for the kitchen. Elsie and Oliver followed her.

"Tea?" Elsie guessed.

"Yes. I want to hear _everything,_ Elsie, and I don't want your throat to get dry."

"I knew this moment would come, when I'd have to confess everything to my big sister."

"Don't you _want_ to tell me your madly romantic tale?"

Elsie laughed. "Well, yes, I suppose I do."

"Then here's your chance." Once Molly had made the tea, the sisters sat down together. Oliver jumped up on Molly's lap and Elsie began.

"Do you remember when I wrote that I'd been ill and had to spend a few days in hospital?" She paused. "No, it was earlier than that. I'm sure you remember when Joe came to Downton and proposed again."

"But that was almost two years ago!"

"Not quite _that _long, but yes. I was just coming to realize that I loved Charles when Joe came round and I had to make a decision. Even if I hadn't been in love with someone else, I believe I still would have turned Joe down. I belonged at Downton. I know you thought me mad."

"Not mad, Elsie, but it's true I didn't understand you."

"Well, I think Joe's proposal forced me to recognize what was in my heart. I couldn't leave Charles, but I had no idea that he loved me. I planned to stay by his side for years to come, because it seemed the best I could hope for. And it was almost enough. He was always a good friend, and I felt valued and cared for."

"Almost enough? What happened?"

"When I was ill, Charles came to see me every day. The last day I was there we talked a little and he told me, quite by accident, that he loved me."

"By accident?"

"He didn't think I returned his feelings and had never intended to tell me."

"So if it weren't for your illness, you two might have gone on for decades without ever knowing each other's hearts!"

"I've wondered about that myself," Elsie admitted. "But I think we would have found our way to each other sooner than that."

"But that was still some time ago, Elsie. What happened between then and now?"

"I'm afraid I might shock you."

"Go ahead and shock me."

_To be continued…_

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	51. Telling Molly

"Go ahead and shock me. I've had months to imagine the most outrageous possibilities."

Elsie was silent for a little while, trying to decide how to start. "We might have been very foolish from the beginning. Our first plan was to wait. We were patient at first, but it could only last for so long."

"You planned to wait?" Molly asked skeptically. "Wait for what?"

"For retirement."

"But that could have been years, decades even!"

"Of course it could have," Elsie replied. "But we worked together and lived in the same house. We thought that would be enough."

"But it wasn't."

Elsie shook her head, smiling ruefully. "At first it was all right. We barely touched. But a little touch here and there led to a little more and before long it became obvious that we could not wait as long as we'd planned."

"So you shocked everyone by retiring."

"Not yet. The late Lord Grantham was killed just after we decided to marry sooner rather than later."

Molly frowned, not quite understanding. "So you put off your wedding to stay at Downton until things calmed down a bit?"

"Yes and no," Elsie answered.

"You're speaking in riddles, my girl. Just come out with it."

"We got married… before we left Downton."

"My, my. How did the Crawleys like _that_?"

"They didn't know."

Molly's eyes widened. "You married in secret? Now you really _have_ shocked me!"

"We had to wait over a month for the first available appointment at the Register Office, but we planned to wait six months before we left."

"What would Mother have said about such goings-on?"

"It's a good thing she is not here to know about them," Elsie replied. "She wouldn't have liked what we got up to some nights when everyone else had gone to bed. But in the end that's why we didn't stay the full six months."

"But you've not been pregnant long enough-"

"I didn't get pregnant," Elsie interrupted. "But I thought I had at one time, so I made an appointment to see the doctor. When the time came to see him, I knew I wasn't pregnant, but I kept the appointment anyway. That's when I found out I really was still able to have children, though probably not for much longer."

"So _that's_ when you really left?"

"Charles found a job here very quickly, we gave our notice, and were on our way. Sometimes I regret we tried to wait, but in the end it doesn't matter."

"Why couldn't you tell me, though?" Molly wanted to know.

"I was terrified of our secret getting out," she explained. "If you'd slipped up just once and addressed a letter to 'Mrs. Carson' at Downton Abbey, there might have been trouble."

Her sister shrugged. "I suppose."

"I'm sorry. But we didn't know what might happen and how the family might react if they knew. So we didn't tell a single soul."

"Don't you worry, Elsie. I'm not angry." She paused for a sip of tea. "It didn't take you long to get pregnant once you were really sharing a bed," Molly remarked.

"Not really."

"I suppose you had a lot of time to make up for," she grinned.

Elsie laughed, blushing slightly. "I do hope you're happy for me."

"Of course I am, dear! I've met your lovely man and I can see how happy _you_ are."

"Then you like Charles?"

"I do, very much. You've chosen well, Elsie. You're well-suited and he obviously takes good care of you. And so handsome!"

"Don't get any ideas, Molly. He's mine."

"You're mighty possessive."

"You know I'm only teasing. I know you've got your own man at home."

"That I do, and he's just as handsome as yours."

"Then we're both very lucky, aren't we?"

"We are, Elsie." Molly stood up. "Now, are you hungry?"

"Famished, since you ask."

"I'll cook dinner then."

"Let me help you," Elsie offered. "You won't know where everything is."

"All right," Molly agreed. "But once you've shown me around your kitchen, I expect you to sit down."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Cheeky."

"Haven't I always been?" Elsie asked.

Molly laughed. "That you have, Elsie. From the day you were born."

#####

Elsie moved slowly around the sitting room, tidying up a room that was already perfectly neat. Molly was in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the sandwiches and biscuits she was preparing for their guests. Charles was trying to assist her, but he was really more of a hindrance than a help. She finally grew impatient with him and sent him out to the sitting room with instructions to make sure the fire was roaring. When he found Elsie flitting nervously around the room, he abandoned tending the fire.

"Elsie, what's wrong?" he asked, putting his arm around her shoulder.

She smiled a little. "Nothing, really. I suppose I'm just nervous."

"Why? The room looks perfect and Molly's a magician in the kitchen. Besides that, you promised to leave everything to your sister and me. This little gathering is for you, so you shouldn't have to do any work."

"Anna will be here, along with some of the others," Elsie explained. "I'd hate for my sitting room to be less than spotless." She paused and admitted, "and I don't like not being in charge."

Charles smiled and kissed her cheek. "I managed a great many much larger events at Downton before you ever arrived there and your sister is very capable. I promise we have things well in hand."

She relaxed. "Yes, you're right. But let me answer the door, will you? I must do _something_."

"Of course. Just don't stand in the open doorway for too long. It's very windy today."

"Yes, it is. I'm glad I don't have to go out in it today. Do you think it might snow?"

Charles let her go and walked over the the fireplace. He poked at it a few times and then added a log to the fire. "I don't think it will today. I certainly _hope_ not, or our guests may be here for longer than expected."

There came a knock on the front door and Elsie answered it. Mrs. Patmore, Daisy, Anna, and the baker's wife from Downton all swept into the room with a gust of wind. Elsie closed the door quickly and greeted her friends, helping them hang up their coats and scarves. Charles was right beside her and invited their guests to sit down.

"My sister Molly is in the kitchen cooking up a brilliant tea for you all," Elsie told them. "Let me go see if she needs help.

Charles sat down and tried to make conversation. He didn't feel nearly as awkward as he had when the Crawleys visited, but he still wasn't used to seeing these people in this context. He couldn't speak curtly to them as he did when he was butler. He didn't know the baker's wife well, though he knew she was a friend of Elsie's. Fortunately for him, the others were talking cheerfully amongst themselves, often including him in their conversation. Before long, Elsie and Molly entered the room with trays of tea and refreshments. Elsie sat, as she was instructed by her husband and sister, while the two of them poured tea for everyone.

Once everyone had been served, Molly observed the group gathered around her sister. She thought it odd that the two eldest women referred to each other so formally - Mrs. Patmore and Mrs. Carson. It made more sense for the young maids to refer to Elsie as Mrs. Carson, but the cook and her sister had clearly known each other for years and were of a similar age. Molly supposed that it was probably just a habit. Housekeepers and cooks were always called Mrs., so after all these years it was understandable that they would continue to address each other in such a way. In spite of this, Molly had to admit that she could see why Elsie might be hesitant to leave Downton Abbey, even if she were not in love with the butler. Molly knew that Elsie and Mrs. Patmore had not always seen eye-to-eye, but they seemed to respect each other. The young maids clearly looked up to her and Mrs. Hillson from the bakery spoke comfortably to everyone present. Molly somewhat grudgingly admitted that there was a certain familial atmosphere that she hadn't expected to find. Elsie's rejection of Joe Burns made more sense to her now. She had chosen the life of a spinster housekeeper, but she had maintained a certain independence and lived with people who cared about her, including a true friend in Charles. The alternative was living the difficult life of a farmer's wife, married to a man who was kind and good, but whom she did not love. The two options were closer to equal than Molly had previously believed. When she added Elsie's love for the butler to the equation, Elsie's answer to Joe's proposal had been the only right response.

Molly was touched further when it came time for Elsie to receive a few gifts. Mrs. Hillson had made a little nightgown for the baby and Anna had knitted some booties. Mrs. Patmore produced a rattle tied with ribbon from her pocketbook and Daisy gifted Elsie with a knitted cap that matched Daisy's booties.

"Thank you all so much," Elsie said. "I know how busy you all are and it means a lot to me that you've taken the time to come here, bringing such lovely gifts."

"We're glad to be here," Mrs. Patmore replied. "But your sister deserves the credit for helping us organize this little gathering for you."

Molly smiled. "It was my pleasure. I'm glad to see that Elsie has such good friends."

_To be continued…_

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	52. Waiting

**Hi! I'm glad you are still reading! Thanks for your patience. This story will have 54 chapters. The last chapter is almost complete, so the rest of the story will be posted fairly soon. Have a great day!**

Elsie entered the sitting room, dressed normally for the most part, and sat down on the settee. Charles was tending the fire and the smell of breakfast wafted from the kitchen, where Molly was hard at work. When he had finished with the fire, Charles turned to his wife.

"You look quite charming in those socks, my dear," he told her, smiling.

"I thank you, though I know you are teasing me," she replied.

"Perhaps a little," he admitted. "But I do think they suit you."

Elsie shook her head and smiled wryly. "Only you could look at me in my current state - enormous and with feet too swollen to fit in my shoes - and find me still a pleasant sight."

"Not true," argued Molly, coming into the room with a spatula in her hand. "I think you look just fine, dear. I hardly think anyone expects you to look slim at this moment. You're about to bring a new life into the world."

"The sooner the better," Elsie grumbled. "I know things won't be easy after the birth, but I'm tired of being pregnant."

"Come into the kitchen, you two," Molly instructed. "Breakfast is ready."

Charles helped his wife rise from her seat and they did as they were told. Molly set everything out and joined them at the table.

"Would you like to go for a walk today, darling?" Charles asked between bites.

Elsie sighed heavily. "I don't know. It's so cold."

"I thought you told me you were tolerating the cold better than usual," Molly commented.

"I am, but I can't walk very fast these days, and the cold still seeps into my bones, especially if it's windy. I'm quite comfortable inside, at least as far as the temperature goes."

Molly smiled affectionately and patted her sister's hand. "I'm sorry you're so uncomfortable, but you really are doing very well, Elsie."

"It's true," Charles agreed. "You've borne it well."

Elsie simply shrugged and finished her breakfast. Once again, her husband helped her up from her seat - Elsie was well beyond the point of finding his fussing irritating or unnecessary - and helped her sit back down on the settee.

"I'll do the washing up this time," he told Molly.

"I'm sure that's not necessary."

"No, I mean it." Charles met his sister-in-law at the kitchen door. He glanced over his shoulder at Elsie, now occupied with flipping through the pages of a novel, before speaking in an undervoice. "I think she's feeling worse than she lets on, but wouldn't tell me what was wrong. Maybe she'll talk to you."

Immediately Molly frowned at her sister and nodded her agreement, quickly shedding her apron and setting it aside. "Thank you, Charles."

He cast one more worried look over his shoulder as he made his way into the kitchen, though he felt some relief now that Molly was taking care of his wife.

Molly sat down beside her sister and spoke in a conspiratorial tone. "Now that your worrywart of a husband is gone, tell me how you really feel."

Elsie set her book aside and closed her eyes. "Not very well, if I'm honest," she admitted. "My back aches and I seem to swing between wanting to be busy with all kinds of things and wanting nothing more than to climb into bed and stay there all day."

"It would be all right if you took some extra rest, Elsie. You don't have to fight your fatigue _all_ the time."

"I can't bear to be idle, Molly. Besides, even when I'm in bed I'm uncomfortable. I toss and turn half the night, trying to rest easy, but I can't. I'm sure I must be keeping Charles up, though he's not mentioned it once."

Molly put her arm around her sister's shoulders. "It won't be long now. Just a short while longer and you'll be meeting your little one. I know this part is difficult, but you're strong and you will get through it."

Elsie turned and surprised Molly with a fierce hug. "I'm so glad you're here. You always know just what to say."

"I wouldn't be anywhere else." She drew back and smiled. "Now how about we bundle you up as warm as we can and go for a little walk with your man?"

Elsie nodded. "Thank you."

#####

Elsie sat on the side of the bed and watched her husband trying to put a boot on her foot. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked. "Doesn't it hurt?"

She shrugged. "It's a bit uncomfortable, but not so bad that I can't go for a short walk."

Charles frowned, but continued. He managed to complete his task with little discomfort to his wife and she got to her feet. "Now I'll get a shawl from the wardrobe and then your coat and scarf and I think you'll be ready."

Elsie sat back down on the bed. "No."

"Of course, how could I have forgotten about your gloves?"

"I'm not going anywhere, Charles."

He turned back to her and was struck momentarily motionless by what he saw. Elsie's eyes were closed and her breath labored and uneven. "Elsie…" he murmured. A little strangled cry from the back of her throat put him back in motion. He knew what was happening. Charles would later reflect on these moments and wonder at his own actions. He felt as though he were watching himself from the outside. "Molly!" he called out and then began removing Elsie's boots. By the time Molly arrived, they lay discarded to one side and he had her dress almost completely unbuttoned. Molly sent him away to fetch the midwife. He ran the whole way there and back again.

#####

Charles alternated pacing the sitting room and fidgeting nervously on the settee, while Oliver waited patiently just outside the bedroom door. The sun had just set when his anxiety reached its peak in reaction to his wife's intense cries from the bedroom, but he was soon rewarded by the sound of a child crying. Molly came to the sitting room a few minutes later, smiling broadly.

"Come and meet your daughter, Charles."

He stood still, a grin stealing over his face. "My daughter. So she was right."

"She was, at that. Come on."

Charles and the cat followed Molly into his bedroom and found Elsie sitting up in bed. Her face was covered in a thin sheen of perspiration and wisps of hair had escaped from her plait. When she heard him enter, she looked up and smiled brilliantly and reached out to him. He immediately went to her, his eyes darting back and forth between his wife's face and the tiny bundle she held against her chest.

"You're so beautiful, Elsie."

She laughed musically. "If you think I am beautiful, take a look at our little one." She held the child out to him.

Charles took his daughter in his large hands and looked into her little pink face. What he saw was not exactly what he expected. "Is she supposed to look like that?" he asked, curious.

Molly frowned and moved toward Charles, concerned. "Like what?"

"Her head looks a bit odd and she's got some splotches on her face."

Elsie looked upset and Molly laughed. Charles realized his mistake and he approached the bed and looked at his wife. "She's marvelous, my dear," he murmured, smiling. He sat down on the bed beside her.

"I'm afraid newborn babies aren't always very pretty," Molly explained.

Charles protested. "I didn't mean _that_. She just looks a little different than I thought she would. But she's lovely, just like her mother." He nestled his daughter in the crook of his arm and bent down to kiss Elsie. She was smiling again and returned his kiss.

"I was thinking we might call her Rebecca, after my favorite aunt," Elsie suggested.

Charles nodded. "What do you think of Rebecca Katherine?"

"After your mother. Yes, it's perfect," she agreed.

Charles looked at the tiny child in his arms. "Hello, my sweet Becky," he murmured to her. "I know you don't understand me yet, but your mother and I love you very much. You're a very special little girl."

Molly wiped a few tears from her eyes and tried to be silent, not wanting to disturb this precious moment of the new family before her. The midwife, thankfully, worked quietly in the background.

_To be continued…_

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	53. A Troubled Heart

Charles was surprised at the swiftness of his wife's physical recovery from childbirth. She rested in bed for a few days, but she was soon up and about, caring for her child and not in any apparent pain. Rather than any discomfort, Elsie now suffered from lack of sleep, as she was awakened numerous times every night by the hungry child in the cradle by their bed. Charles was awakened by the baby's cries as well, but then he went back to sleep while she rose from their bed to feed the child. He felt a little guilty leaving it all to her, especially as the weeks passed and her eyes grew more shadowed and her mood less animated. He consoled himself with the reminder that he could not feed Becky even if he wanted to.

Molly cooked most of their meals and Elsie was more thankful than she could say, although she worried about how she would manage once her sister had gone back to Lytham St Annes. She could barely keep up with her growing daughter and when it came to her husband, she didn't have the time or energy to do much more than kiss Charles goodbye as he left for work each day. They lived in the same house, but she missed him. The joys of new motherhood gave way to a troubled heart, but Elsie didn't know what to do, how to ask for help, or even what it was that she needed.

One day after putting Becky down for an afternoon nap, Elsie trudged back from the bedroom to the sitting room and sat heavily down on the settee, next to Charles. He put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze. "She's two months old today," he said.

"Mmm," Elsie murmured noncommittally, allowing herself to slouch against her husband.

"It's amazing how fast she grows," Charles commented.

Again, she barely responded.

He was a little worried that Elsie was so unresponsive, so he tried to think of something that might cheer her up. "You're a wonderful mother, love."

Elsie shocked Charles by bursting into tears. He was completely taken aback by her weeping, wondering what he possibly could have said or done that might elicit such a reaction. "Don't cry, Elsie," he said softly, but she only cried harder. He was beginning to wonder if he should send for the doctor. He had seen her cry before, but never like this. Her shoulders shook and she covered her face with her hands, clearly trying, without success, to stop crying. Charles handed her his handkerchief and she took it. "What's wrong, my darling?" he asked. "Shall I summon the doctor?"

Elsie's hands fell away from her face and she shook her head adamantly. "No, please don't," she begged.

"Then tell me what's wrong!" he implored her.

She shook her head again. "No. Nothing's wrong. Everything is fine."

"Everything is _not _fine. Elsie, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's got you so upset."

She rose hastily from the settee and began to walk toward the bedroom. Charles reached for her, but she danced out of reach. "Please, let me be!"

Charles was both worried and confused, but he didn't think any good could come from calling the doctor against her wishes - he had seen no evidence of illness or injury aside of her inconsolable weeping. Even now he could hear hear her crying in the next room. He was simultaneously glad and sorry that Molly had gone out - glad for Elsie's sake that he was the only witness to her outburst and sorry that Molly's help was unavailable. When she returned from her errand, however, Charles did not speak of it. Elsie was pale and silent at the dinner table, trying to evade the worried glances of her husband and sister as she ate quickly. As soon as she laid down her fork, the baby's wails could be heard from the other room. She gave a thin smile and left the room. While Charles dressed for work, Elsie sat on the bed facing away from him, her child in her arms, not speaking or even acknowledging his presence in any way. When he was ready to go, he kissed the top of her head. "Good night, Elsie. I love you." She closed her eyes and swallowed hard, but did not reply. Charles didn't know what to do, so he followed his routine. He left the room, got his coat and hat, wished Molly a good night, and went to work.

#####

Late that night when Charles returned home, Oliver met him at the door. He walked toward the bedroom, untying his bowtie as he went, the cat running ahead of him. Oliver jumped up on the bed and Charles undressed as silently as possible, to avoid waking his wife and daughter. Once he was in his pajamas, he pulled back the sheet and blanket to climb in bed, but was stopped short by the sight before him. Elsie lay fully dressed on top of the quilt on the bed. Her hair was loose and tangled and she had not even removed her shoes. Charles could not imagine she was very comfortable like that, but he wasn't sure how to proceed. He didn't like the idea of waking her, as he knew how tired she had been lately, but her sleep would probably be more restful if she were tucked properly into bed. Charles briefly considered seeking advice from Molly, but dismissed the notion almost immediately. He could take care of Elsie without running to her sister at every moment of uncertainty. He might not get it right every time, but he loved his wife and would do his best.

In this case, Charles decided to wake Elsie, but not until he had all of her nightclothes ready. Once he had gathered everything she needed, he first very carefully unbuckled and removed her shoes. She did not stir. Oliver sat on the pillow beside her head, ever watchful. Next Charles unbuttoned her blouse, but there was no way he could do anything else without waking her.

"Elsie. Elsie, wake up," he whispered.

Elsie mumbled something unintelligible, but did not awaken.

Charles shook her gently by the shoulder and spoke a little louder. "Elsie, dear. I need you to wake up."

Her eyes opened slightly. "Charles. What's going on?"

"I'm going to help you change into your nightgown, dear," he replied. "You'll be much more comfortable that way."

Elsie nodded and slowly got up from the bed. She let Charles undress her and raised her arms so he could slip the nightgown over her head. He offered her dressing gown to her and she quickly donned it. She sat down on the bed and he sat beside her, taking her hand in his. They sat in silence for a minute or two before Charles spoke softly to his wife. "Now are you going to tell me what's going on, my dear?"

Elsie nodded, but placed a finger on his lips and pointed to the cradle just a few feet away. Charles understood that she was afraid of waking Becky, so he led her out of the bedroom. The sitting room was dark and cold, but Charles gathered his wife up against his warm body on the settee. He kissed her hair, thankful that Molly had moved her cot into the nursery for the time being. "Whenever you're ready, love."

"I don't know how… where to start," Elsie replied.

Charles looked thoughtful. "How about this afternoon?" he suggested. "I told you that you are a wonderful mother and you cried."

Tears sprang to her eyes again, but she was calm. "I hated to hear you say that," she whispered.

"Why?"

"Because it isn't true."

"Of course it's true. You look after her every need, just as a good mother does."

"That's not what I mean."

She was silent again for a bit and Charles kissed her hair again. "It's all right, love. You can tell me."

Elsie nodded. "You say I take care of Becky, and that's true, but when I hold her in my arms, I don't _feel_ what a mother should."

"How do you mean?"

She sighed before she answered, speaking slowly and choosing her words carefully. "I _know _in my mind that I love her, and that she is fragile and needs me, but when I look at her I feel nothing or I feel terribly sad. This should be a happy time of closeness between my daughter and me, but it isn't. Sometimes I'm glad when I feel sad, because it means that I still have feelings, but when all I feel is sadness, the nothingness can be a relief."

Charles was troubled by what he heard, but he did not respond as Elsie feared he might. "I'm sorry you're feeling so sad, Elsie, but I don't think it makes you a bad mother."

She didn't answer right away. "You don't?"

"Of course not," he assured her. "Perhaps there is something else making you sad. Molly will be going home soon. Do you feel sad that she's leaving?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"I know you like taking walks, but haven't been able to go out lately. Is that upsetting to you?" he asked.

"I don't think so," she replied. "I mean, yes, I like to walk, but it doesn't make me sad, exactly."

"Well, I don't know what it is, but I'm sure there's something."

Elsie shrugged.

"Whatever it is," Charles continued, "it doesn't mean you are not a wonderful mother. If you did not love Becky as you should, I don't think you would be as worried about it as you are."

She sighed. "I suppose so. I don't know. I'm just so _tired._"

"I'm sorry there's not more I can do to help."

"Isn't there?" Elsie questioned him.

"You know I can't feed Becky."

"Of course not. But…" She looked away.

"But?"

"I don't know if I should ask. I ought to be able to do it myself."

"Elsie, for goodness' sake, if there's something I can do, tell me what it is!"

"Please don't shout, Charles."

"I'm not shou-" Charles checked himself. Nothing would be gained by provoking an argument. He lowered his voice before speaking again. "I want to help, my darling."

"Of course you do," Elsie agreed. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right. Just tell me what I can do."

She nodded. "Charles, when Becky cries, it's not _always_ because she's hungry. Sometimes she needs her nappy changed and sometimes she just wants to be held."

"Oh."

"Yes."

"So I could take care of her during the night," Charles suggested. "Some of the time."

"I know you are tired after working all evening, but even just a little help would be wonderful."

He began to feel a little more enthusiastic about this plan, hoping that it might lift her grey mood. "I might watch her for an hour or two in the afternoon so you have time to take a nap."

Elsie sighed in relief, her body sagging against his. "That would be marvelous, Charles," she breathed.

Charles pressed a kiss to the top of her head and stayed silent. It seemed that the conversation was over and he knew that Elsie was exhausted. In fact, she fell asleep almost immediately. Charles dozed on and off for the next hour, but he grew uncomfortable and decided it was time to go back to the bedroom. Elsie woke up when she felt him stirring, but before she could say anything he had stood and scooped her up off of the settee. Charles laid her on the bed and climbed in after her. For the first time in weeks, she moved closer to him, curling up against his side and resting her hand on his chest. Soon her regular breathing told her husband that she was asleep and he was able to sleep himself, but it was not long before Becky's cries awakened them. Once Elsie had fed her daughter, she felt a nudge from Charles. He held his hands out for the child.

"Let me rock her to sleep."

Elsie smiled. "Of course."

"You go back to sleep."

"I'll try."

Charles smiled and sat up in bed, holding his daughter close to his chest, glad to see Elsie fall asleep again. Once Becky was calm, he quietly laid her in her cradle and went back to bed. He watched his wife for a little while before drifting off himself. He felt sure that all would be well now.

_To be continued…_

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	54. Joy

With Charles's help, Elsie felt a little more herself, but she was still plagued by unexplained bouts of crying and the feeling of being detached from her child. He was determined to find the cause of her melancholy, but after several days of trying, he decided to enlist Molly's help.

Charles and Molly sat together drinking their coffee one morning after breakfast. Elsie had gone to the other room to feed Becky and Charles took the opportunity to speak to his sister-in-law.

"Molly, do you notice anything different about Elsie?" he asked.

Molly looked thoughtful. "Well, she's tired, but that's to be expected."

"She doesn't seem… sad… to you?"

"She does, at that," Molly answered.

"I've been trying to figure out what is causing her to cry so much, but I don't have any answer. I don't know what to do."

"Charles, it's not unusual for a woman to be afflicted like this after giving birth."

Charles was surprised. "What do you mean?"

"Some new mothers experience a period of melancholy or low spirits," she explained.

"What do we do to make it better?" he wanted to know.

"It will pass with time. Keep helping and supporting her and she'll come 'round."

Charles was apprehensive. "So she will be all right? How long will it take?"

Molly nodded and patted his hand. "She will be fine. I can't tell you when she will come out of it, but she _will_ come out of it."

He nodded, still concerned, but somewhat reassured by Molly's calm certainty that Elsie would recover. He would try to be patient.

#####

Just as Molly had predicted, her sister soon came out of the fog, her usual practical optimism returning. Charles was more than relieved; he was glad to have his wife back. He had missed her - the twinkle in her eyes, the smirk on her lips, and the energy with which she moved. Elsie was still tired, naturally, but she was now enchanted by her daughter. Everything Becky did was a wonder to her and she often pointed out to Charles how beautiful and intelligent their child was. He agreed with her about all of it, feeling proud of his little family - his lovely wife and their perfect daughter.

Molly left for Lytham St Annes once she saw her beloved sister restored to health and happiness, but not before helping Charles expand his repertoire in the kitchen beyond eggs and tea. He was not a brilliant cook, but he learned how to make several simple dishes tolerably well, and without setting fire to the kitchen.

#####

Charles and Elsie lay facing each other in bed one afternoon. He stroked her bare arm lightly as his breathing returned to normal. She closed her eyes and sighed, a contented smile on her face.

"I'm glad Becky is sleeping in the nursery now," Charles remarked. "I've missed having you all to myself."

"Yes," Elsie agreed. "There was something a little odd about making love while she slept in the cradle just a few feet away."

"I doubt it made any difference to Becky," he laughed. "But we had to be so careful not to wake her."

Oliver jumped up on the bed and made his way to Elsie, bumping his nose against her chin. She laughed. "It looks like you don't have me to yourself anymore, Charles."

"Perhaps," he admitted. "He follows you everywhere now that you have a lap for him to sit on."

Elsie smiled and yawned. "I'm going to sleep now, Charlie."

Charles kissed her forehead and rolled onto his back. They were both asleep within seconds.

#####

The next morning, about an hour after breakfast, Charles and Elsie were surprised by a knock on the door. Charles had been in the sitting room reading the newspaper, while Elsie dozed against his shoulder, Oliver asleep on her lap. She was immediately awakened and noticed that Becky, resting in a little cradle at Elsie's feet, had been disturbed by the knock. She did not cry, however, but made some gurgling sounds as Elsie lifted her up to her shoulder. Charles opened the front door, Oliver now at his side to inspect their visitors.

"Lady Mary!" he exclaimed. "Your lordship! Please come in."

The lady and gentleman passed through the door, watched carefully by the small orange cat, and Elsie stood up from her seat. "Charles, if you'll take Becky, I'll go make some tea."

He immediately did as she asked, while gesturing to their guests to be seated. Lady Mary hesitantly approached Charles and peeked into Becky's inquisitive face. She didn't say anything, just as fascinated by the child as the child was by her. Charles watched the wordless interaction between his daughter and the one who had been like a daughter to him for so many years.

"She's lovely, Carson," Lady Mary murmured.

"I won't argue with that," he agreed.

"Congratulations to you and Mrs. Carson," Lord Grantham said with a smile.

Charles nodded. "Thank you, milord."

Lady Mary and Lord Grantham exchanged a glance and sat down together on the settee.

"May I ask if there is a particular reason that I'm favored by your company this morning?" Charles asked.

"Yes," Lady Mary affirmed. "I - that is, _we_ \- have some news.

Charles smiled, fairly certain he knew what was coming.

Lord Grantham took Lady Mary's hand and spoke. "Lady Mary has done me the honor of accepting my proposal of marriage. We're to be married in just a few months."

"I wanted to tell you in person, Carson," the young woman explained.

"And I'm glad you did. I'm very happy for you both."

At this moment, Elsie walked into the room with a tea tray. "Yes," she agreed with her husband. "My congratulations. I can see you're very happy."

Lady Mary blushed and Lord Grantham smiled at his fianceé. "Yes, we are," he murmured.

Elsie served the tea and observed her husband and guests. Charles was clearly very happy for his favorite Crawley daughter and even Elsie could see how well Lady Mary wore this new contentment. Her cheeks were a little rosy and she smiled more than had previously been her habit. When they had first met, Lord Grantham and Lady Mary had not gotten along at all, but time had brought them together and Elsie expected that they would do well together. Two strong personalities were sure to clash from time to time, but that was only natural. A bit of disagreement was not enough to ruin a marriage, as Elsie well knew.

The next half hour passed easily and the Carsons bid farewell to the younger couple. Elsie held out her arms and Charles passed Becky to her. The child was getting restless and her mother knew it was time to feed her. She often went to the nursery when Becky got hungry, but today she sat down on the settee and Charles joined her. Oliver jumped up on Charles's lap and rubbed his nose against Becky's small feet. The mother and father sat in silence, both watching their daughter. The sun was streaming through the window; it was a beautiful day. And a beautiful life.

#####

The Carsons happily watched Becky grow and blossom into a lovely, sweet little girl. She was their only child and, though Elsie was the perfect combination of firmness and compassion, Charles was a rather indulgent father. She never grew willful or ill-tempered, however, so it did no harm.

Lady Mary conceived an heir not long after her marriage and she and little George were frequent visitors to the Carsons' cottage in Ripon. There were those of her neighbors who considered the young countess's visiting her former butler and housekeeper so often to be eccentric to an extreme. However, those who really mattered to Lady Mary did not judge her harshly and her husband approved of her loyalty to her old friend Carson. He was as close to a grandfather as George would ever know, a fact which brought both Lady Mary and Charles a great deal of peace and contentment. The unexpected friendship that gradually developed between the countess and the former housekeeper was a source of happiness to them all, and although the two families had their share of sorrow and strife, when the good and bad times were measured in the balance, the former always far outweighed the latter.

Charles and Elsie were too busy living their lives to spend much time wondering about the past, but on a few occasions over the years they considered all of the second chances they had each been given in life, most especially the ones that had brought them together. A second chance with an old flame, a second chance to make peace, and a second chance for love were just a few of the opportunities Charles and Elsie would never forget. Those second chances taught two isolated people that they were capable of great love, turning them into one very happy family.

_The end._

**Please leave a review if you can spare a few moments.**

**I appreciate your supportive comments on the previous chapter, especially in relation to Elsie's difficulties as a new mother. I was hoping that part of the story would sound realistic, and a little worried about writing it based on only secondhand experience and a bit of reading about post partum depression. Thank you!**

**Thank you so much for joining me on this year-long journey. I thought I would be finished by the time S6 premiered in the UK, but the characters kept adding chapters and life got in the way, as it often does. I hope you've enjoyed this story. Thank you for all of your support. It means so much to me! I hope to see you all soon on the review pages of your stories, my stories, and in other virtual places. Here's to a lovely spring!**


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